The Shah's Gift
by DonJuana19
Summary: Takes place in Susan Kay's plotline, though can be read without knowledge of her novel. The Shah of Persia is displeased when his favorite magician Erik turns down his latest, most generous gift-a wife. He decides that he will not be beaten by his masked servant.. and orders for a new, "special" girl that he knows Erik could not possibly refuse... for her sake.
1. Chapter 1

"Shadow of God… your magician has turned up his nose at the girl you presented him."

The Shah of Persia's bloated head snapped up, black eyes like burning coals in his anger. "What?" he snarled. The greatest gift he could have presented the prideful, masked man was a virginal girl from the harem to claim as his wife… _and the despicable skeleton thought he could just send her back? _

The khanum, on the other hand, was perfectly calm, perfectly silent. She had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from smirking; Erik would never accept a random, spineless girl from the harem into his bed… he needed a woman who could combat his influence, competence, and burning temper. She had yet to coax him to sleep with her, but soon… _soon… _

"Let me take care of the girl, my son," she said in her tranquil-yet-dreadful way, "I will see to it that she gets what she deserves for proving so… _useless _to my Angel of Doom."

"Your Majesty, please…" the messenger began boldly, "the man said himself that he was _incapable_ of using her, that she should not be hurt—" 

"You dare defy my wishes?" she shrieked in anger, "bring her to my glorious torture chamber _immediately_!"

The messenger's olive face paled, and he quickly scuttled from the room to do the khanum's bidding. She sat back in her jewel-encrusted throne contently, plotting on how to lour the strange, masked genius under her employment to her bedroom.

"And good riddance…" her son grumbled, yellow teeth grit in his displeasure, "she was one of the best of her training group. And he just casts her aside, to a death in his own torture chamber!"

"He didn't want her hurt, my love, you heard his plead. He won't attend her execution," the khanum replied coolly, greatly displeased with this fact.

"I see…" the shah continued thoughtfully, and the khanum could practically feel the rusty wheels of his mind turning.

"What troubles your sweet mind, Your Highness?" she asked him with a shallow coo: a tone which was only ever used when dealing with the eccentric ideas of her useless son.

"Just that… he tried to save her. He believed it not her fault, but some fault of his own. Perhaps he thought her just not right for him," the shah explained slowly, stringing words together as they popped into his head.

The khanum thought of her recent classification of the sort of woman Erik and his long, sensual hands needed—essentially, her, despite their thirty year age gap—and smirked. "I would have to agree, my son," she replied casually.

"But he still must have a wife… but a wife of his race, not ours!" the shah was growing more and more delighted with his brilliant plan, struggling out of his throne to stand and pace sluggishly, "a wife of his Christian belief, who he could celebrate those musical masses he composes with… a wife born of a place he knows, calls close to home… a wife tailored perfectly to his strange, alien _needs_…"

The khanum found herself gripping the glittering arms of her chair. What was this foolish little buffoon thinking! Erik didn't need any more wives thrown at him, any pretty little flowers of his age to amuse him in the night! _He needed to spend those nights slaving away on how to amuse _her _with tortures and tricks!_ "Son—" she began sternly, in a tone that had never before failed to stop him in his fantasies. But he didn't seem to hear her, now.

"That's it, the greatest gift of all for all the pleasures he has brought us. _A wife of Europe. _An imported of woman to be married to him in the traditional ways of _his _people!" he culminated with glee, clapping his fat hands together. But then his thick black brow furrowed, and he sank back into his seat as if the burden of thinking had taken out his knees. "But how to select such a girl, out of all those living in that great unknown… I'll need men to scout, to find the perfect girl… someone no one will miss when we whisk her away… _someone who won't so easily cower when she sees that wretched face of his,_" he mumbled, wincing as he thought of the tear-stained, hysterical girl he'd gifted to his masked magician.

"You think you're going to just send a legion off into Europe to carry away some poor child completely unnoticed?" the khanum snarled, "I will not allow it! This is outrageous; _Erik has everything he needs right here!" _

But the shah's word was law. And, without Erik's knowledge, that very legion of fearless, ruthless Persian seekers was sent out into Europe but a few days later.

**A/N: ****Hello readers! Thank you for taking the time to read the first chapter of "The Shah's Gift" (since I, in a moment of vast uncreativeness, couldn't come up with a better title). ;)**

**I just finished reading Susan Kay's Phantom, and LOVE LOVE LOVEd it. I mean, it's a lifechanger for phans, people. But it really got me thinking, especially after I read her author's note… what did she mean by "other romantic relationships" before Christine came along? **

**Had Erik fallen in love before? Or simply wallowed through the years until he met his Christine? That's what I explored here… I really hope you like it enough to stick with it for a while and see what lies in wait for whatever poor European girl is brought before the feet of our great, corpse-like genius! **

**Your Obedient and Humble Servant (meaning review or PM me if you have any ideas, comments, or suggestions; I'm always open to new ideas! :D ), **

**DonJuana**


	2. Chapter 2

Serena Ryen had been blind from birth. She had never minded. One of her favorite ways to connect with people was to have them describe what _they _saw to her… she had no way of painting an accurate picture in her mind, but she would listen to their words and feel the blissful way they slid across her ears and figures it was as good, if not better, than seeing with the eyes.

The Persians knew all about Serena and her unfortunate disability. They had arrived in the little town of Rouen, France, and seen the beautiful young girl with her hair of fire and immediately set their sights on finding out more about her. She was meek, gentle, musical, and, best of all, _orphaned_. They did not know what had happened to her parents; they couldn't ask without alerting the suspicion of the townspeople. She was the town's pet, of sorts, like the shah's prized Siamese cat. Everyone took turns taking care of their poor, blind prodigy who had to walk with her hands out before her, but otherwise she had no family connections who would search the ends of the earth to find her…

Serena had never found it relevant to ask anyone what she looked like, considering the words, descriptions, and phrases she often heard used to describe the physical attributes of people were at a loss to her in her never having seen the color blue or what symmetrical, stunning features made a person "attractive". But if she had, he or she whom had been asked would have smiled and described her pale, smooth, flawless skin and long auburn hair which tumbled down her shoulders like some sort of perplexingly captivating liquid fire. She had lips like rose petals, often parted in one of the most beautiful, contagious smiles the small world she lived in had ever known. And though her eyes were clouded with film and darting like a paranoid's though nothing they perceived, they were a lovely, icy blue that was nearly hypnotizing to those who caught her visionless glance.

She was proud to call herself educated despite her condition. Before they had passed, her parents had always brought her volume after volume of special books for the sightless—Greek mythology, Roman classics, gothic favorites, fairytales: it seemed to them that nothing could sate their curious daughter's yearning for knowledge for long. They taught her to read as they would have any other child; they simply used braille letters and phrases instead of A's, B's, and C's. And the more she learned, the farther she advanced… the more they wished to test her, to see where her limits fell when, with the way she improved each and ever day, it seemed that she had none. So, they tried a little experiment with braille and the piano…

Needless to say, it quickly became Serena's favorite pastime. And through it, she just as swiftly earned the rest of the town's love… children would come and sit by her window and elderly tenants would hum along to familiar tunes as they heard her playing as they passed by. But then her parents passed, and she was left a young, blind girl all alone with no one left to help her stumble from her bed to the piano. It was then that the townspeople met and assigned her fosters, of sorts—people to come to the house daily, switching off on a weekly basis—to ensure that she got all the help that she needed, and several midwives even taught her how to function independently through nothing but touch and sound. She had defeated all odds and prejudices against her since she had been a small child, and consequently became a beacon for the town: an inspiring tale they crawled to like moths to a fire.

The longer they stayed, observing, the more the Persians realized that not only was this particular girl blind—_perfect _for one to face the horrors of their domestic, corpse-like monster—but she was fully functional in everything from making tea to turning out beds and cleaning an entire house top to bottom. She was sightless but not helpless and handicapped; already a housewife, but unmarried and pure. The only hitch they could find was the townspeople's constant pestering of her; she had learned so much from those special, imported books of hers that people often came to her with ailments of their families, problems and disputes for her to settle, and the like. She was like some sort of royal of the city: a sacred high priestess whom they now had to extract unnoticed. Their chance came on one of the Christians' holidays…

Everyone else was already at the town mass. She was running late, having misplaced her cloak. They took her as soon as she had stepped outside.

And over the joyous blaring of the organ, like some overly-perky relative of the dark, twisted music she would hear from the shadowed, musical mind of her intended, no one heard her scream.

**A/N:**** So everyone… meet Serena. Beautiful, blind, French girl who also happens to be one of the wisest, most gifted, and adept people in her town— girl born with a handicap in addition to some exceptional talents including a penchant for music and gaining new knowledge… sound like anyone we know?! **

**Seems after months (and yes, that's the timeframe here if it's not clear… you couldn't just express order a wife in those days…) of tireless searching as a result of the Shah's threatening of their families, his WifeScouts have found the perfect gift for Erik. But will she be as perfect as they think? **

**Next chapter will be longer; these short, daily ones are just to get the ball rolling before I start releasing longer chaps on a weekly basis. And stick around, because that same next chapter will include Serena's difficult journey to Persia: all in her point of view! Not this strange half-hers-half-Persians-and-yet-still-in-the-third-person approach I took here—well, you get my point. **

**Enjoy, my lovelies! R&R, let me hear your beautiful voices! (Inside my miiiindddd…) :D**

**~DonJuana**


	3. Chapter 3

SERENA'S POV

I woke with a terrible pounding in my skull like nothing I'd ever before experienced, the ground beneath me tossing and rolling and not staying in its proper place. Mon dieu, what had happened? One moment I was preparing for church, the next…

Hands. Rough, unforgiving hands smelling of foreign spices and smoke… clutching at me, gagging me… knocking me over the heard with some solid, heavy object I couldn't identify. Merde, no doubt the wound would be infected by now… and I was not home to treat it with my herbs…

Home. Oh God, where was I? How far away _was_ home, in reference to wherever these bandits had taken me?! My hand shot out from under my head, and I shivered as I felt the rocking floor to be made of metal.

_Metal! _But what sort of metal was not stationary? I stumbled to my feet, feeling around until I hit a sort of wall…

Apart from its not being a wall at all. I hit a single bar, then my hand fell through into open air. I was ensnared in a _cage. _

A sob escaped my lips, and as soon as it had, I heard the strident shriek of a door opening and slamming shut. I ran towards the set of bars the noise had been closest to, reaching through them desperately. "Please, who's there? Why have you brought me here? Where am I?" Tears welled up in my eyes… it had really just dawned upon me that this was not in any way a dream. I was really here, in this strange place, with a potentially dangerous man who had _kidnapped me _from the very steps of my home, incapable of defending myself because of something I couldn't change. My own terror choked me as I attempted to convince him to let me go… _I just want to go home! _

The door opened again. More footsteps entered the room, and I could feel in the tensely electrified air around me that there were two men now in the room with me, and that they were standing beside one another, not five feet from where I knelt. Why did they not answer me? Could they not give me at least an answer, after they had taken me and destroyed my life?

"Please, I'll do anything you wish…" I begged them through my tears, "just let me go! I'll pay any sum of money, any ransom…"

They began to speak then, but not in any tongue I recognized. It was strange, flowing, and beautiful, but there was an urgency in their tone which made me shiver in dread. I tried, albeit weakly, another appeal, "Please, Monsieurs… just tell me what you want…"

I could feel their hungry eyes boring into me like ravenous wolves. Then, _they burst out laughing._ I grew sickened as I listened, realizing it was not my pleas they were laughing at; they obviously couldn't speak French. I was suddenly certain, though I obviously couldn't perceive them with my eyes, that they were laughing _just from watching me_ as I stumbled about the cage, helpless, petrified, and blind, crying out for mercy in a tongue they didn't even care to understand. I was being completely dehumanized, and the horror of the realization brought me back down to my knees, curling up like an abused dog on the floor of my dank prison.

Something was thrown at me, and I instantly scrambled to a safe corner of the cage, cowering at the clang of metal on metal. The men guffawed at my timidity, exchanging foreign, mocking phrases. Another lurch of the mobile floor soon sent whatever objects they had thrown tumbling towards me. I picked them up with quaking hands, feeling them each cautiously as if they were all wired bombs. From the scent of them, one was stale bread, the metal thing a canister of water, and the last some sort of dried fruit. I ate the food submissively, terrified beyond belief as they watched and began to laugh again.

"Good bride of corpse," they said in clumsy French, "Good corpse bride."

~o~0~o~

Many months later…

Was it weeks, or perhaps months, that I endured listening to that horrible, furtive phrase repeated to me, over and over, slowly maddening me as I cried and screamed for its meaning to be revealed to me? What sick, twisted game had I be cast into? _Why was I the 'corpse's bride'? _

At first I kept count of the days, knowing morning from evening only from when the gibberish-speaking men brought me my meals.

It was the same food every day, and with the combination of that, the rolling deck, and the fishy scent I caught a whiff of each time someone opened the door or got too close, I had hopelessly concluded that I was on a ship.

I figured out early on that there was some sort of drug in the dried fruit to make me sleep, so they wouldn't have to listen to my agonized moaning from dawn until dusk. So within the first few weeks, I had stopped eating the fruit, instead disposing of it by craftily dropping it each day in the waste bucket they'd provided me before they came in to change it.

Oh, that _damned _waste bucket! Would the degradation ever end? It was as if I were a pet cat! And _even cats get finer than this! _Were these men trying to completely break my spirit? Because they had nearly succeeded… I was so ashamed and humiliated each time I had to use it that at times I would refrain for so long that I would get sick. And each time I did it earned me a good smack from the men who had to clean me up… but thank God, they had never forced me to change clothes or relieve myself in front of them. If they had, I think I surely would have wished for death rather than the disgrace of that such offense.

_Little did I know of what was to come, why they refused to touch me inappropriately though I could feel the lustful hunger radiating off their skin…they were servants to a much greater and more wrathful demon than the ones dwelling in their own twisted souls. "It must be a virgin you bring back," their master had whispered, "anything less means death for you all." _

More than anything else, I learned to keep quiet, to suffer in silence and avoid making things more difficult than they needed to be. Any hopes of escaping had been crushed as soon as I realized that I was on a ship, and with it my resistance to this awful, nightmarish crumbled like the walls of Jericho. I just had to shut up and internally pray that God might deliver me from this hell, and as soon as I had decidedly begun that such approach, my existence there became easier apart from that maddening, horrible phrase which was repeated to me at least once every day… "_the corpse's bride…"_

But then, long after I had ceased to count the hours spent imprisoned on this wretched, petrifying boat, it docked.

The by-now-familiar creaking of the door startled me out of my sleep, and I couldn't help but cry out in horror as the door to the cage was flung open and the rough hands which brought me here once again took hold of me and yanked me out into the most breathtakingly powerful sunshine I had ever felt upon my skin. I began to cough; the air was dry and scorchingly hot, but as soon as I had sucked in more air I found particles of _sand _sticking to the insides of my cheeks and forcing themselves down my throat. I would have begun to cry had I not feared I would be boiled by my own tears; I had obviously been brought someplace so far off from the little world I'd known that I would never be able to find my home again—

"Mademoiselle? Please, stop your thrashing."

I couldn't help but gasp aloud as the blessed sound of my native French deluged my ears like a cool bucket of water. I wrenched myself free of the robust arms that held me and ran towards the sound like a woman delusional, only to fall into another silk, foreign-scented embrace…

"Y-you're one of them!" I squeaked in devastated betrayal, "How do you know French?"

"All will be explained in a moment's time, Mademoiselle, let me just get you into a transport. Your skin is unused to the Persian sun, and you are already beginning to burn."

I let this man with his smooth, reasonable voice lead me to his obviously canopied (since it gave a glorious refuge from the beating sun) transport without any fight whatsoever. I was but a step away from going limp as a ragdoll, too lost in the reiterating, ghastly, once-nearly-implausible-to-believe, it had been so far away, word, running over and over in my head…

"_Persia…" _

**A/N:**** CLIFFY. And a terrible time for one, too… guys, this is the last chapter until next Saturday! That's going to be my goal for this fic every week—a hopefully-always-or-close-to-always-on-time Saturday release date. XD**

**Anywhoooo… what do y'all think of Serena? She really is a good girl, she's not as dark as she seems… though I'm sure this will not be the last time her POV reflects that sort of aura, with where and to whom she's bound next. I mean, come on… if you were kidnapped and held for **_**months**_** on a boat with no chance for escape—not to mention you're BLIND—you'd probably be thinking a little darkly too. **

**R&R, my darling readers; I've loved hearing from you guys so far and chattin about the glories of "Phantom" with you! See you next Saturday! :D**

**~DonJuana**


	4. Chapter 4

The man sitting across from me, holding onto my hand as a sign of trust, introduced himself as Nadir, the chief of police of the shah's royal guard.

"But where did you learn to speak French!" I practically hissed, surprised at my own spite.

But Nadir remained calm, cool, collected… and a slight flutter of his pulse told me be probably would have even laughed had he not been so wary of frightening me. "The man my employer wants to betroth you to taught me," he replied after a moment.

My mouth grew dry. "_Bride_…" they had said on the ship. I had heard stories of such happening, but, just like Persia, they had seemed so far away, so impossible…

And yet now I knew that I had been kidnapped from my homeland and brought here to become the little foreign wife of some rich, piggish dignitary. I stifled a sob.

Nadir sighed. "I am very sorry those are among the first words I ever say to you. But I assure you, Mademoiselle… Erik—that's his name—he's not the worst man you could be paired with. There are bachelors in the palace who have a different girl every night, and who would no doubt ruin you with their incessant demands. Erik… well… Erik is a different sort of man. For one, he was born and raised in France, until events in his life—terrible things, horrible occurrences—forced him out and unto the world. From there, he travelled to every country under the sun, mastering every language, craft, science, and skill that presented itself to him. He is an architect, magician, scientist, inventor, brilliant musician and vocalist, ventriloquist, artist, genius, and morally good man in an otherwise very crooked place," he finished, nodding fervently.

I twisted my face so as tell him that he couldn't fix my broken existence just with a few pretty words about my supposed fiancé. "Then why is he still a bachelor?" I answered smartly, "aren't accomplished men such as he among the first the be married off to beautiful royals?"

Again, Nadir sighed. He seemed a very weary man, probably only ten years my senior at most, but trapped within a stressful, deceitful profession that aged him indefinitely. "Well," he began, his tone immediately more cautious, "Erik is… different than other men."

"Yes," I snorted derisively, "if he is truly the multi-faceted god that you're making him out to be, I daresay he would be."

"You do not understand me. He of course is, otherworldly, in that sense, but in another… he is not angel, but demon."

The smirk fell from my face. Suddenly, the only recognizable phrase I heard on the journey here sounded again in my head…

"… _the corpe's bride…"_

"How, sir?" I asked in tones barely above a whisper. I then placed my hands directly on his face, a trick I often utilized to ensure someone was telling me the whole truth. He seemed shocked by this at first, as people often are, but then seemed to soften, as if the reminder of my blindness brought him some sort of comfort…

"Erik is an extremely disturbed individual. Ghosts from his past haunt him every day, and have nurtured in him a damnable temper when provoked, and a dark, tortured imagination that has made him do horrible things throughout his life. And all of this came to be _because he is hideously deformed_, Mademoiselle," he explained without much more delay, "his face and body resembles that of a half-rotted corpse, though he wears a mask to cover it."

I felt him tense as if bracing himself, but I just sat there, borderline apathetically.

His jaw dropped in amazement at my lack of reaction. Well, what did he expect? I knew not the meaning of the word hideous. I myself could be hideous, for all I knew; I had no basis of comparison because from the moment I was born I had never known beauty _or_ revulsion. I had, however, felt a corpse before… I had both wanted to say a final goodbye to my many-days-dead parents, and helped a grieving, half-mad mother in town whose baby had passed…. but she had refused to acknowledge his death—she kept him, rocking him and attempting to feed him, for over two weeks before she was brought to me to comfort and let go. Corpses were just papery, malodourous remains of once-great people. What was there to fear? If this man would feel like a corpse when he touched me—withered and cold, skeletal and thin—because of some mysterious deformity, how could I shrink back in fear and disgust, punishing him for a decision of God's? For something he was born with, not unlike my own lack of sight?

I told all of this with a sniff to Nadir, scolding him and his people for being so petty and timorous. He did laugh then, a lovely but obviously rare sound, saying, "How wonderful it is you think that way, Mademoiselle. I think you and he will get along just fine."

"That depends," I answered back, jesting slightly in an attempt to forget how hopeless and terrifying the situation was, "is he Catholic?"

"I know he was raised such… but I don't think he has much belief left. As I said, Mademoiselle, his life had been increasingly difficult, and many trials have been thrown his way. If he does have belief in Alla—er, God, then he thinks Him cruel and merciless, seeking amusement in the torture of the outcasts of His Creation," Nadir elucidated, shaking his head.

I removed my palms from his face. "How unfortunate," I said casually, trying to check my own fear of the words I was about to poke fun at, "I was rather hoping that 'damnable temper' of his would see it fit to punish those thugs out there who took me on the most holy day of the Easter Vigil."

He laughed again, but I noticed this one to be much more nervous in sound. "Be careful what you wish for, Mademoiselle," he began, "I hope that you two will get along, but you must be very careful to do what he tells you and avoid prodding the lion. He has never before hurt a woman, but…"

I shivered, despite the intense heat. "He has hurt plenty of men," I finished the thought for him.

The thick, crippling air shifted with his nod.

**A/N:**** Ok, another somewhat short one… but containing lots of valuable information! First off, we meet Nadir, and who **_**can't**_** love him. He's going to be a very valuable asset to Serena throughout this story; they're going to become rather good friends. **

**Second, we get our first mention of Erik! And EVERYONE loves Erik… it's why you're all here! :D **

*******And for those of you who may be wondering, since I don't think I'm going to distinctly write it in, Erik is about twenty-five at this time. Serena, therefore, I made twenty-one. So yes… Erik is **_**quite **_**the eligible bachelor by Persia's standards. And Serena would nearly be considered an old maid, if she wasn't blind and unexpected to marry anyway.******

**Next week will be a double chap with a POV switch halfway through… get pumped; I know I am! :D Please R&R… every single one of your comments has made me grin like crazy as of far! And even if it's constructive criticism you have in mind, please send it my way! ~DonJuana**


	5. Chapter 5

Nadir, once past the scripted, burdensome job of informing me of my essential enslavement, was wonderful company! Especially after long, maddening months of not hearing anyone's voice but my own and those whose conversations taunted me in my oblivion. I decided it would be in my best benefit to befriend the only other French-speaker I met as of far, and asked him about everything from his childhood to his family now. His wife and son had both died, the son only recently, he'd told me… and apparently this powerful Monsieur Erik had had a soft spot for little Reza.

"Sometimes," he said quietly, "I felt that Reza saw him more as the father figure than I in those last few months. Erik gave him the world on a string with all those strange talents of his… and I was constantly leaving to do the shah's bidding. So not only was Erik around more… but when he was around, he lived only for making my little son laugh."

His words saddened me and shocked me simultaneously; I could tell by his tone that he did not open up on this subject, much less to complete strangers. "Do not fret or guilt yourself over that, Monsieur… it wasn't any fault of yours, and you will always be Reza's true father. I'm sure, in Jannah, he knows that and watches over you with love," I attempted to comfort him, stroking his bearded cheek like a mother soothing a nightmare-filled child. He'd looked up at me then, and I felt amazement once again entwining itself into his features beneath my fingers. "You know of Muslim tradition?" he'd asked, flabbergasted.

"Oh yes," I replied with a smile, "I had every sort of book to learn from at home… history, world religions, sciences, novels…" and then I preceded to tell him of my life, and how I had achieved the things I had without my eyes to assist me.

"Allah, Erik will love you," he kept repeating, over and over, "he will love you…"

Speaking of all I had left behind while he said such so dazedly became increasingly difficult… not only did his words make me sound like I was some charming little pup to be given to a spoiled child, but I was once again reminded of the horrifying reality of the situation. I had been taken from my home to be married off to a man whose temper was a lit fuse at nearly all times, and who had been known to brutally maim those who got in the way of his littlest tasks. My heart began to race as my tongue wagged on aimlessly through my childhood and teenaged years, imagining horrible bloody fates for myself should I not please him… either as a prize, or, if I passed that test, as a wife. As… a lover. That thought brought me the most dread of them all—not only out of fear … but because while the townspeople had taught me many things so that I might become independent in lifestyle, not needing anyone's help despite not being able to see the stove, hearth, or washbin… they had always assumed me too fragile to marry. So none of the Rouen midwives had ever told me how to properly let a man ravish you…

"M-Monsieur Nadir," I appealed to the Persian man in my sudden, trembling terror, "I-I know not a thing about being married… about all the duties being a wife entails. How will I keep him pleased? How can I keep myself safe?" I felt terrible for using such wording when speaking of a man who had been through so much because of his appearance, but I did not want to be disposed of because of a wrong move in bed.

I could feel Nadir's pity like a cloud of thick black smoke filling my lungs, choking me. He put his hand on my shoulder, speaking to me soothingly to calm my trembling, "Just do as he tells you. He knows… he has never been with a woman, either, but he knows. And… while I know it makes no difference to you, do not touch his mask. He is extremely… sensitive, about it."

I had not even a moment to process that advice before the transport thudded to the ground in front of the magnificent palace of the shah.

~o~0~o~

**NADIR'S POV (For the convenience of translation)**

How frightened the surprisingly resilient and intelligent girl looked as one of her only remaining, reliable senses was taken from her. I was the only one here who spoke any French whatsoever… those chattering hushedly as we passed them in the halls about her strange, pale beauty and of the man she was to be handed off to had to have filled her head with nothing but senseless noise, and the distress on her pretty little face was heartbreaking.

But Allah, was she a courageous, tough little thing. She was halfway across the world from her home, about to be forced into marriage to a highly dangerous man she didn't know, and yet she had found it within herself to joke and ask about my life as I carried her off to the sealing of her fate. She had proved herself so kind that I found telling her about my late son and dear wife effortless… comforting. She may be blind, but in only a few hours' time I had found her to perceive more about life than most.

And that is exactly why she would most certainly survive when thrown into Erik's masterful clutches.

But first, I had to get him past the anger he would feel when he saw her, stemming from the incompetence of the shah and his inability to fathom that Erik didn't want a forced wife. He, like any other mortal, wanted a woman more than he had cared admit to anyone but me, but he also had one of the most astounding moral compasses I'd ever seen for someone who had suffered the injustices he had suffered… he'd rather be drawn and quartered by the wildest bulls of Spain than force a woman to be with him.

He only wished to be loved… _truly _loved.

He would be angry, oh yes, and I would have to protect her at least until that anger had subsided… but wait until he found out why her eyes were so pale, so constantly distant…

Wait until he heard her apologize for the ignorance of those who judged by appearance.

I would pay a large sum of money for someone to capture in a painting his grotesque face in that moment of utmost shock.

We had arrived at the doors to the throne room, and I quickly turned to Serena, saying, "You are about to meet the shah and his mother. Stay quiet and do as I instruct you, and memorize this statement to honor them with when I ask you to."

She mumbled something like, "Demanding prats, aren't they?" and I was relieved beyond belief no one around me could understand her. Allah, she was so like Erik was when I first brought him here. But, unlike him, she nodded and memorized the respect, repeating it back to me several times before I opened the doors...

"Bring her forward!" the shah commanded as soon as we had entered, standing in delight at the sight of his accomplished feat. The khanum didn't look nearly as impressed…

I gently took Serena's hand and led her towards the throne, where the shah came down to meet us and began to inspect her. "Why are her eyes so faroffish? What is wrong with her?" he demanded accusingly.

"She is blind, Shadow of God," I answered simply.

"But she is not daft, is she? My mother believes that he will cast her off again if she is daft…"

"No, Your Highness. In fact, she is extremely intelligent. Even learned to read with special books for those without sight," and with that, I nudged her, and she repeated back in impeccable, albeit slightly accented, Persian, "An honor to make your acquaintance, oh Prophet of the Angels."

"Learned that in but the walk from the courtyard to your door, Your Highness," I told him.

Interest bubbled in his eyes, lust pulsing from his every movement as he circled her again. It wasn't often such a foreign and impeccable object made its way into his palace… he seemed to be forgetting he'd brought her here for Erik…

"What a stunning creature she is, despite those disturbing, darting eyes," he hissed, reaching his hand up to stroke her peculiarly red, flowing, hair and soft, milk-white cheek, "Perhaps I will keep her after all, put her through concubinal training…"

"You would not dare do such with a gift for your _servant_," the khanum suddenly snarled in disgust, strutting down from her throne to slap him across the face. A flush came to the shah's cheeks; whether it was from embarrassment or rage I do not know. But, as always, his mother was beginning to bring him back to his senses. "But why not?" he whined, "I'll give him a prized harem girl. This one is special…" he looked back at Serena, as she tried to fathom like a wounded animal what was going on to cause so much commotion around her.

"And that is exactly why she was chosen for Erik," the khanum rolled her eyes, "Do you really think you'll get any pleasure whatsoever out of a blind girl? A cripple? And yet to him, she is the only woman who will be able to look past that abominable face of his and crawl into his bed with him," she smirked, using his own words against him, "She is 'of his kind', is she not? That is why you brought her here... that is why he will fall deeply in love with her, making her a gloriously easy target for blackmail and "favors" from him in the future."

The shah sighed, though a smile crept onto his face as he thought of all the "favors" ahead, "You're right, you're right… forgive me, mother. Daroga," he turned, and I straightened as he addressed me directly, "she is perfect. Take her to my masked friend."

I couldn't help but sigh in relief, before intaking again as I realized who my new little friend would have to meet next. "Yes, Your Majesty."

**A/N: ****And with that, it is off to meet Erik with the next installment. FINALLY! ;) **

**So, how'd y'all like the Nadir-Serena bonding? I just adore our dear Daroga. You're going to see a ton of him in this fic, because I just love writing him. Then, on the other side of the character morality spectrum comes the Shah… and the Khanum. Ick… are they troublesome. And they'll only get worse from here, my pretties… just you see…**

**That's all I really have to say for this chapter… R&R me if you think I missed anything haha! Love you all; thank you so much for your support so far! I write for you! :D**

**~DonJuana**


	6. Chapter 6

SERENA'S POV

"O-oh… how he touched me!" I shuddered, surprised I was not doubling over, sick, on that twisted little man's expensive floor, "I could feel what he wanted from me radiating off his skin… thank God in heaven that woman stopped him!"

If only I had known what "that woman" was capable of. Perhaps I wouldn't have been so grateful.

"Yes… it was very fortunate," Nadir replied simply, though his arm tensed at her mention as he led me through the halls.

"Was it his wife?"

"His mother."

"Oh. Protective?"

"Powerful."

"There seems to be far too many powerful people around for a successfully functioning monarchy," I snorted, and I had to hold back a giggle as Nadir went stiff in horror next to me before glancing around as if anyone even remotely near could have understood our French any more than I their Persian. But instead of correcting me, he simply sighed and said once more, "Erik is going to love you."

"Then for God's sake… take me to him and let's find out, shall we?" I answered with a laugh, though my throat was becoming increasingly lumpy with my fears and trepidations and I truly felt like crying inside. He would no doubt want to "try me out" before he decided to marry me… powerful men always did, like spoiled children with new toys… I could be soiled or _dead_ by this time tomorrow…

But Nadir had taken to heart what I'd chortled, and within a few more minutes, had brought me to a stop in a quieter, more secluded wing of the palace. Was it possibly that is was cooler here, and had an air of being infinitely more comfortable…?

"This is Erik's wing," Nadir whispered to me, "he built it himself, so you can at least take ease in the fact that it will be entirely comfortable."

"Did he design the bed himself, too, for maximum comfort?" I asked dully, reaching out and touching the cool, sleek, wooden doors before us. The wood felt different than anything else I'd touched here: more familiar, somehow. Perhaps it was brought over from France many years ago in the very same boat I had been shipped here in.

Nadir didn't answer my cynical remark before knocking on the door. I swallowed the mound of discomfort lodged in my throat and attempted to decipher another fate for myself beyond those doors…

I could not. I was a slave now, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. The best I could do for myself was _stay alive_…

A Persian curse, the pounding of piano keys, and a few angry steps towards the door. A shouted, muffled question in Persian, and a calm response from Nadir. Then, the creaking of a large, menacing, wooden door and the feeling of a powerful pair of eyes upon me…

"French please, Erik," Nadir continued then in my tongue, "it's all she understands."

~o~0~o~

ERIK'S POV

"The shah… has done… what?" I snarled, trembling with ire as Nadir so tranquilly divulged this atrocity. This goddamned hellhole of a country, run by that goddamned _swine_ of a king... they had been nauseating in their morals before, but this was going _too far. _He had specifically told the blasted man he _did not desire and would not take another wife! _And his mindless employer had decided to completely disregard his wishes… oh, would he _rue _that tactless resolution!

"Brought you a wife back from France… I know it's appallingly low for even him, Erik, but you must try to understand, it is one of our most prized customs—"

"To kidnap young girls and carry them off to rich man's beds?" I roared, hands twitching as thoughts of murder pulsed through my head. "It is an abomination! I will not take her! Send her back to her homeland!"

I turned to the girl then, and found with annoyance that she was staring directly at me. What strange eyes she had… nearly lucent in their icy blue. She was beautiful, no doubt about it, and redheaded, which was rare, but that irritated me all the more. I did not like it _at all_ when perfectly beautiful people stared at me in my irregularity.

"Erik…" Nadir sighed slowly, "you remember what happened to the last girl you rejected. Do you want that to happen to her, too? Especially after all the terror she went through in being brought here?"

At that my anger dissipated… the last wife I had rejected had been violently killed. I had begged that she be spared, as I knew I'd never be able to ravish the poor, terrified child without wishing to kill myself afterwards… but the khanum had taken the denial of her as a _personal_ insult. I had been invited and expected at her execution. I didn't go… and I wasn't about to be the cause of another innocent woman's death—ironic as it was to think such, or not. "I suppose not…"

Suddenly, the girl spoke up, "I appreciate your concern for me, Monsieur, but there is nothing I can do now. Even if I was to escape from here I'd simply be wandering in circles in an unknown land, until I eventually died in the wilderness."

Her voice was a sensible-but-soft soprano, ringing with a twinge of familiarity to my ears in the form of a slight accent and an undeniable musicality when she spoke. But mon dieu; could the girl be any more dramatic?

"I'm sure you'd be able to spot the North Star and find your way to the sea, Mademoiselle," I snorted impatiently.

Frustration washed over her pretty face then, and she crossed her arms. Just as I was wondering how she could dare express impatience with me, considering all of the potential options of _punishment _I could bestow upon her in return, she did as no one—apart from the bitter woman who had raised me in cruelty and malice—had ever risked doing to me before… she opened her mouth and snapped at me. "Then the land of Persia must be even more mysterious and mystical than I originally thought," she spat petulantly, "as it would be a _miracle_ if I could see such a star considering _I was born blind_."

My blinding rage at her actions vanished, leaving me slack in disbelief. My emaciated jaw dropped, and I began to tremble as I replayed her words in my head. Her eyes… the way they twitched and focused on things far off or nonexistent entirely… their strange color…

Nadir had a smirk on his face I wished to wipe clean off with my Punjab lasso. "Surprise," he chuckled, "that's why she was chosen."

I could feel myself nodding to acknowledge him, but I couldn't take my eyes off the girl… the_ blind_ girl who had been brought to marry me… to _lie_ with me… who would never see the horrors of my face, who would never judge me for anything but my actions and character.

Looking at her was abruptly like coming home, somehow; while I did not have the best memories of France, it was still my homeland, my Patria… and her pale, cream-colored skin and light, colorful hair in all of her beauty and understanding reminded me of the few happy times I had spent in France. Of Sasha, my dear pup… of my architectural tutor… of the church organ… and my mouth grew dry, as I tried to process the _gift_ I was being presented with…

"Nadir, is he staring at me?" she asked suddenly, and I felt my sullen cheeks burning from beneath my mask as I wondered how the hell she would know where I was looking. I gave Nadir an extremely menacing glance, telling him tacitly to deny it, but he just grinned and responded, "Yes, my dear… he is."

I was just about to strangle him when she laughed. Oh, what a wonderfully musical sound! One could write entire handbell compositions attempting to express it. I looked back at her, and to my surprise, she had stepped away from Nadir's guiding arm, reaching out towards me. "Well, then I best be introducing myself…" she offered her hand and a smile, and like a dumbfounded child I took it, feeling a woman's skin on her own accord for the first time in my life. Something stirred within me…

"My name is Serena," she told me, her eyes staring into mine as if they could actually perceive, "Serena Ry—well, I suppose my last name doesn't matter much now, does it? Soon it will be yours."

The simplicity with which she said that statement nearly choked me, and I found my knees trembling as if they would give out from beneath me. She… she was openly agreeing to be my wife. Or, had accepted her fate, at the least. And, apart from being kidnapped, of course, she had done so without coercion. She was not being forced into—

No, you wicked man! Of course she is being forced into this… they didn't_ ask_ her when they took her if she would rather stay in her home, going about her life. She is not yours for the taking, Erik, don't you _dare_ think of her that way…

"I… don't… I don't have… last name…" I replied dumbly, cursing her for being so strikingly lovely and familiar that my sudden, unquenchable, nearly _frightening_ desire to just sweep her inside and bury myself in her sweet, warms curves was taking away my talent for speech, "I am just Erik. Just Erik."

"Well, then I am just Serena," she smirked, and I intook a sharp breath at the sight of such a coy little expression, "a pleasure, Monsieur."

"The pleasure is mine, I assure you," I mumbled in reply before softly kissing her hand. She jumped at my cold touch, and I recoiled back several feet like an injured cat, rage immediately swelling up in my chest that she should _dare_ be disgusted when she had no idea what I looked like—

"Ooh, my! Your skin is cold. But forgive me, that is no matter. I have my own little case of cold hands; the chill is caused by poor blood circulation, which is normally a genetic inheritance—" she stepped forward and took my hand again, hers twitching in mine, and as if sensing my astonishment at her informed words and willingness to go anywhere _near_ me more than once. "What?" she blinked, "Shame on you for thinking a blind girl would be stupid just because she cannot read with her eyes. I learned to read with my fingers, and have excelled in every field of study nearly twice as fast because of it." She sniffed, then took another step towards me. "Now, may I come in?"

**A/N: ****I combined these to make another double POV chapter because I decided I'd kept Erik from you for far too long, and that I couldn't possibly make you wait another week for his first cameo in the plot! So, here you are! The one and only Erik… future phantom and present prodigious pride of Persia. (Hurray for alliteration!)**

**So… what do y'all think? I think that Erik was just a teensy bit surprised by his quick-witted new companion… just a tad… ain't he an adorable bashful? ;) But what will happen once the initial shock wears off? Serena might need more than her quick thinking to please him then… well, we'll see next week with my longest chapter yet! R&R, my dear readers… "angels I hear you, speak, I'll listen!" :D ~DonJuana**


	7. Chapter 7

**SERENA'S POV**

He possessed the single most beautiful voice I had ever heard; of that much I was certain. It was not an implausible wonder he was considered one of the most powerful men in Persia… his voice alone resonated of majestic otherworldliness… like he was some sort of fallen angel. Not to mention, as I could tell by where the top of my head came up to on his personage, he was bewilderingly tall… muscular, lean, and towering, yet still moving with noiseless, catlike grace as if he had weighed nothing at all. He was obviously very imposing, but it is because of that astoundingly beautiful voice, I think, that I became so comfortable so quickly.

Nadir had been right; he was so much like me! We appeared to share a similar sense of humor as well as a dangerously quick fuse. And, as soon as I had revealed my learned knowledge to him, he had taken to speaking to me as if I were a scholar, not a poor, handicapped girl who needed help with every little thing life threw her way. Perhaps I would like it here after all…

But there was still the matter of the forced marriage. There had been a change in him the moment he found out I would never see the mask upon his face, a change like a downgraded version of the shah's lust. With faint alarm in my heart, I attempted to prepare myself mentally for the fate I knew would await me as soon as Nadir left the wing. But for now, he and the Daroga were locked in a heated, hushed discussion all in Persian. I had no notion of the meaning of their words, but I was almost certain by his curious, near-awed tone of voice that Erik was asking him questions about me. Perhaps he was comparing me to his last wife… yes, just a moment; what was that they had said about her?

"Excuse me, gentlemen," I interrupted as I stopped where I stood so as not to stumble into anything in this unknown place, "what is this about another wife? You said something happened to her…" I questioned cautiously, monitoring changes in the atmosphere in case Erik was sensitive about her apparent passing.

It was silent for a moment. Had I known Persian, I would have heard Erik whisper in horror, "She doesn't understand."

"She… she was killed several months ago," Nadir began slowly.

I could feel the color draining from my cheeks. "Mon dieu, that's terrible. Was it some sort of freak accident? What happened?"

Erik swallowed loudly, and the lump in my throat returned as I realized he'd had something to do with it. "I… I sent her away; I refused to take her as my wife. She too was an unwilling gift from the Shah, you see, and… well, she was too young and too terrified of my mask. I could not imagine forcing the burden of marriage to a monster such as I upon her, so I returned her politely. U-unfortunately the Khanum considered this a failure on her part," a hitch in his breath, "and she was publicly executed."

I felt frozen to the spot where I stood. This poor, innocent girl had been _killed. _Murdered! Her young life had been destroyed, prematurely ended… all because she did not want to be used as a man's plaything! It was the most horrible thing I had ever heard; I could feel a sob rising up in my throat… what sort of country was this, murdering young girls when men simply looked at them cross-eyed? Young girls like me, I remembered in dismay… '_God help me; I must behave, I must please him…'_

"Terrified of your mask? How awful. I've never had much patience with people who judged based off of appearance," I told him truthfully, if perhaps I was telling him at an ideal time—when he was upset and exposed— so as to save my hide, "Though I think your labeling it 'marriage to a monster' is being a bit harsh on yourself. Though that poor girl… with God, in peace, may her soul rest. I hope she is happier and safer up under that King's jurisdiction than she was down here, under your Shah's. "

Silence once again, then the shuffling of Nadir's feet. He must have seen something I couldn't; perhaps Erik with the silent, catlike, stately sway of his stupendously tall, thin body, had begun to take off his trousers and he thought it best to leave, for he said, "I should let you two get acquainted. I'll be around if you need me," before disappearing with the slam of the door.

My heart was throbbing uncontrollably in my chest as my protector left us; I had no perception of my surroundings, a silent, powerful being who had never known love standing mere feet from me, and no knowledge whatsoever of what to do next. So I just stood, praying desperately that it was not some outlandish Persian custom that the woman always make the first move.

God only knows how long we stood there, Erik and I. I could feel his eyes following my every move like burning brands upon my skin, but not until several minutes later did he speak… "Did you… did you mean what you said? Your reproachful feelings on judgment by appearance?"

His angelic voice was so childlike, so fragile and helpless, that I felt the sudden need to gather him up into my arms and rock him to a peaceful sleep. But instead, I simply reached out to him, momentarily forgetting my fear as I waved him towards me.

The shifting of the atmosphere was the only indication at all that he had moved, such was his grace and stealth from—I could only imagine—years of necessary sneaking, trying to go unnoticed. As soon as I felt him before me, I reached up, took a deep breath, and put my hands on his cool, smooth mask.

An instant later I found myself being slammed against a nearby wall, with only a moment to cry out in pain and shock before two, bony hands closed around my throat. "You dare come in here, preaching fair judgment and kindness, earning my trust, just so that you might get to peek behind my mask?" I had never before heard such an animalistic snarl come from a man as the one he managed now in his fury, "Well you will sooner become a cadaver yourself before _you get to view the Living Corpse_!"

I tried to scream—thrashing violently against his hold—but his grip, while practically muscle-less, might as well have been steel, and no sound to alert anyone passing by outside could escape from my open mouth. '_Do not touch his mask_…' Nadir's strictest warning taunted me now as the room began to rock like the ship I was brought here on, '_I know it makes no difference to you, but do not…_'

Then, just as I thought I would be meeting my Maker for my foolish lapse in recollection, the iron collar clasped around my windpipe was suddenly gone, and I found myself tumbling to the floor, gasping for the unforgiving desert air. I rolled onto my back and spent the next few minutes coughing and clawing at the carpet, trying to find up from down, right from left, and how to regain my sense of footing. God, I hated falling… it left me helpless as a turtle tipped onto its shell as I attempted to reorient myself with my flailing limbs.

I hadn't realized how quiet it was until that silence was shattered with the most heartbreakingly beautiful moan I had ever heard. I instantly identified it as belonging to my tortured companion, and I wondered if he was hurt. Had someone come in, having heard my initial scream, and stopped him from killing me?

But no, the area was so secluded…

"Damn you, Erik! How could you?" I heard him gasp in a voice rich with anguished remorse, "Nadir just told you, you insufferable beast, how _she sometimes touches faces as a means of communicating. _That was all she wanted, Erik, what difference would your viciously ugly face make to her and her sightless acceptance? _How will she ever accept you now that you have already tried to murder her_?"

Did he realize he was so harshly chastising himself aloud? My heart broke for him, despite having been fearful for my life scant moments before. I should have to be more careful to never incite that unforgiving ire again, but it had obviously been but an instinctive reaction. Something in his life had scarred him so brutally that the mask he wore had become as much a part of him as his long, elegant hands were, and he would probably sooner go without them than without it. It wasn't his fault for reacting to memories of very human pain and lashing out to protect himself… was it?

"She asks that you please help her to her feet so we can try this again," I told him with a sigh, putting my arms out in the air in embarrassment. Call me crazy for so quickly forgiving the man who had just tried to kill me, but whether insanity plagued me or not, he was both mysterious and dangerous. I _wanted _to cry… oh God, I wanted to sob until I was completely run dry and couldn't make any more tears! I _wanted _to scream until my lungs gave out—I could have died by his hands, for God's sake! But I knew I couldn't… not if I wanted to live. I had to play this game—his game, the game of treading carefully so as to please him into keeping me around—with utmost caution.

More silence. But then those same hands which had nearly ended my life took hold of mine ever-so-gently, and, trembling all over, he helped me up off the ground. God, they were large, and so very thin, like the branches of trees… yet alive with a thudding, human pulse. I'd always had big hands for a woman, and yet his encompassed mine like cages while simultaneously providing the strangest sense of warmth and comfort…

"Why do you not run? Why do you not cower? You hardly even winced, for God's sake!" he choked, the astonishment in his voice quite evident.

"I don't prefer to crash into walls," I answered casually, swallowing my fear, "and that's all I would be doing if I ran anywhere." I was surprised by my own wit. Here I was, a former town-darling-who-wouldn't-hurt-a-fly, face to face with a sort of lethal predator, and yet I jested in his face like I wasn't one bit afraid. I had proverbially looked death in the eyes mere moments before, and yet here I stood… flaunting a blade of sarcasm I hadn't even known I possessed. And he, in response, just continued to tremble. I had caught him completely off guard with my calm reactions and understanding views—completely perplexed one who had been called the world's greatest genius.

This poor man… this was enough to ruin him simply because he had never known kindness without a price… "Now that you remember how unlikely it is I'll run at the sight of you," I said softly, "why don't we take off that mask so I can begin to properly get to know you?"

He tensed again; I don't believe he was expecting I request he take it off. "The mere texture of my skin is enough to send one running," he replied with sudden bitterness, "I refuse to force something so vulgar upon you."

"It's not forced if I asked," I answered matter-of-factly," besides… your deformities are corpse-like, correct? Well I am deeply sorry to inform you that you're not the first corpse I've ever felt, nor will you be the first to actually frighten me," I continued with what I had told Nadir in a moment of complete honesty, "for, corpses are just the physically decayed remains of great individuals. I think they should be celebrated, not feared!"

A thump, and a brief tremor in the floor. I nearly gasped as I reached out towards where he had been standing, confirming my hypothesis; Erik had fallen to his knees before me. This young, strong, disturbed angel had been unable to withstand the power of a few redeeming words, and had knelt feebly before me. And with this action came the tacit permission I sought to bolster my claim.

I reached out and lifted his mask from his face, pawing around beside me until I found a table to carefully place it on. Then I softly brought my hands up to his face, tenderly stroking and feeling it as he began to cry silently, wetting my fingertips as I ran them all over his papery mien.

It was withered and fragile, but stiff in some areas from the constant rubbing of the mask. His cheeks and eye sockets were so sunken into his face that I feared his tears might be too much of a burden and tear them completely. And where his nose should have been, there was a large hole I, with a blush and a quick correction, nearly run my fingers into it as they wandered about the crevices of his disfigurements. He was ice cold, just like a cadaver, but the breath escaping in labored puffs from his cracked lips was warm and so utterly human that I wanted to cry with him.

People blessed with sight were so cruel to that which their eyes found displeasing; it was no wonder Erik was so angry and paranoid. His life had probably been hell on earth as a result of nothing but a quirk he had been born with.

"You poor, wounded man…" I couldn't help but coo sadly as I caressed his tear-stained cheeks, "so much suffering for that which you cannot change…"

At that, he began to sob harder, verbally, and I soon began to fear that when he finally pulled himself together, he would send me away for upsetting him. Oh God, what would I do then? I had only been trying to help! Panic set in as I envisaged what could happen because I had made him weep… obviously I dreaded the loss my head, or—oh, God forbid; please, forbid!—my virtue, should he send me back to the shah, but at the same time…

…how could I leave him now that I had met him? How could I run from someone so much like myself, someone so broken who no one had ever been willing to mend before?

"Have I displeased you?" I whispered after a long while of just touching him as he cried. I feared a voice any louder would only make things worse, so I spoke quietly, delicately. But the words nevertheless brought with them even more dread as terrified foresights flashed through my thoughts: a long, tortuous execution in a cruel and barbaric way… being thrown, any screams I emitted going completely unanswered, into the bed of a man who—based off his apparent vindictiveness towards those of his kingdom—would no doubt do what he liked with me whether it harmed me or not… held down in my blind terror, bare and defenseless, as he got his fill from his newest, imported _toy_… oh, what fresh hell was this! '_Please keep me,' _I was on the verge of begging, '_I'll do anything you want, absolutely _anything, _if only you should keep me, and be at least gentler than _he _would be… let me redeem myself in pleasing you!' _

"N-not at all," he replied with a gasp, cutting off my frenzied train of thought as I practically cried out in relief. And, perhaps I imagined it, but I believe he gravitated closer to me.

" I see… s-so you won't be sending me back to the Shah?" I questioned cautiously, in that same, borderline inaudible tone.

His head jerked up with sudden, shocking passion, and, had I been able to see him, I would have blushed under the ardent, burning heat in his feline, golden eyes. "Never," he hissed fiercely, determinedly, "he will never come near you again… never hurt you…I will keep you safe, here. I will even officially take you as my wife so that he thoroughly believes that I am '_satisfied_' with his gift," the venom in his tone as he voiced this part of his promise was enough to make anyone shudder, but then he settled back into tender undertaking, "but I will never touch you, never even look at you if you do not first consent to it. You will be my wife, but only by law and title, remaining free to do as you wish and completely unobligated to have anything to do with me—I would even build you your own wing, if you should desire it! _Anything_ you could possibly want to make your involuntary existence here more bearable, you will tell me and I will attain it for you a thousand times over. But he will not touch you, Mademoiselle Serena… I will protect you against any threat he or anyone else poses against you for the precious, _precious _gift you have just given me," he finished

The authority in his voice as he spoke made me ponder if, despite being about me, I had any say in this matter at all. But mon Dieu, what flattery… I could feel my cheeks coloring as I replayed his avid promises over in my head. And by these gloriously alleviating words, I knew that though I must still be ever-cautious of angering him— he would not hurt me again. Good Lord, he had just promised me _my virtue_, despite his obvious loneliness and the fact that here in this eccentric land I was, by law, his property to do with as he pleased! I had been kind to him, he had seen, and as repayment I was to remain safe while in his care. And that alone was a vast weight lifted off my shoulders; I would not be returning to that vile, licentious Shah, but I would not have to give up my maidenhood here as substitute!

"Well what a pity that would be, Erik," I sighed lightheartedly after growing uncomfortable with the weighted silence and the expectant stare I knew he was giving me, "I was hoping we would become friends, if we are to be married! And that would be rather difficult if you went and built me my own wing."

I had astounded him to tremors once more by teasing him as I would an old friend. That was all I had done, and yet to him, while unbeknownst to me at the time, it was like the harkening of a heavenly angel's revelation. With empathy bubbling within me, I abruptly decided there was one more thing I needed to give this poor man who had known so much pain.

"And also, if we are to become friends," I told him, my expression serious and my tone explicit as I took my hands off his face and picked up his mask, "you are not to wear this in my presence. Do you understand? Never. I want your face, not some stony, emotionless façade."

He felt as though he were about to protest, though he was shaking so violently I doubt it would have been much more than a whimpered word. So, before he could open his mouth, I stumbled over to the door, hanging the mask up on a small hook I had felt on my way in. "In others' presences, when necessary… but never mine. Agreed?" I repeated, turning back towards his general direction.

When he began to weep vociferously again, I knew this time it was for joy, and I smiled.

**A/N:**** Reactions? Anyone like Erik's instashift from rage to tears of joy? Anyone hate it passionately? What are everyone's thoughts on Serena; do you like how she's progressing so far? She's playin' smart, if nothing else; sure, she had a momentary lapse in the form of forgetting Nadir's warning and touching his mask, but she managed to evade a certain awful death… and more…**

**NEW! Question of the week: Where is everyone from? Even if you don't normally review, and may never review again after this, review of PM me what country you live in! Not to be a creepy stalker like our darling Erik later on, but just because I was looking at my stats and am now immensely curious! :) Much love, my readers! ~DonJuana **


	8. Chapter 8

_**Erik's POV**_

It was a mortifyingly long time before I managed to regain my composure, and, even once I had, I continued to shake like a thing possessed. How ironically droll;_ I_ had always been the demon—the Devil's servant— to all who laid eyes upon me, and yet now it was not I who did the possessing, but instead the heavenly _angel_ who stood not meters from me.

Oh God, Jésus-Christ, Allah… whatever being ruled ceaselessly over both human and ethereal individuals alike—that being that I continued to have faith in, but had long ago grown to hate— she was an angel.

Now that Nadir was gone, and could no longer chastise me for staring, I found I couldn't stop. She was the single most beautiful creature I had ever seen. My anger with the shah upon my first glimpse of her had prevented me from truly processing her naturally stunning, enticing attractiveness. My trembling now was more from the simple thrill and pleasure I got from just _looking _at her than it was from the sheer, formidable disbelief that came hand in hand with her gentle acceptance.

Acceptance… what a _glorious _word that was! And now I had been graced with _knowing _the feeling!

This woman—this vision of divinity—with a smile great artists could slave over and never truly perfect, had approached me on her own accord. She, with those perfectly symmetrical features a sculptor could attempt but not succeed in impeccably replicating, had taken off my mask without so little as a wince. And she, with a body the greatest ballerinas would weep in envy over… she had _touched _me, spoken words of sympathy—soft and low—in that enchanting little voice of hers. Caressed my naked face as her eyes stared blankly ahead, unafraid! And all close enough that I could have pulled her to me, repaying her compassionate gestures with desperate ones of my own upon her faultless, creamy skin—

'_No! Where has your self-control gone, you filthy animal! Restrict your thoughts!' _I internally scolded myself.

I knew myself quite well by this time in my existence—having had to spend every moment of my life in my own, lonesome company had made that rather inevitable. Thus I knew, above all, be it fury or love, that I was a very passionate man. The most innocent breath of a thought had the precarious potential to topple the pedestal I'd just placed her on, rightfully out of my doomed reach, in even the briefest of absentminded moments. '_She must not cross your mind, dwell on your lips, haunt your dreams, taunt your… desire…' _

I suddenly could not decide whether I was finally being rewarded or simply punished more cruelly than usual.

In one light, a woman had been sent into my life, albeit under ghastly circumstances. A _beautiful_ woman who could not have judged my horror of a face even _if_ her kind heart had allotted her to do so… because she was _blind_. It was as if she had been handcrafted by Fate to suit me perfectly! And, on top of it all, she was sensibly levelheaded (apart from her unfathomable lack of fear of me), witty, and poised—while others subconsciously or intentionally cowered upon first meeting me, she had stood tall and openly mocked me with sarcasm. Even after I had bruised and marred her long, elegant neck with a grasp locked to kill…

But on the other hand, a beautiful, open-minded, and endlessly alluring woman had been sent into my life… and I could not so much as look at her without wishing to punish myself as if for the most malicious of sins. The need to protect her in this god-awful country that had already taken so much from her was completely uncontainable. Yet, I knew as long as I did she would greet me each day as an irrepressible reminder of my humanity and a derisive icon of my inability to take part in it like any other man could. Attempting to _befriend _me—heaven only knows why, the poor girl—when no one else had ever dared try. Touching me and laughing at me whilst simultaneously mocking me with her sweetness, her beauty, her innocence, her inadvertent appeal…

'_Perhaps_,' I thought with a groan, '_I should begin praying again; this is going to require either divine intervention or a hell of a lot of luck.' _

"Erik, please do tell me if I am about to trip over something. I would indeed hate breaking an ankle so utterly unimpressively after coming out nearly unscathed from my dramatically hellish journey here," she said abruptly with a smirk that made me choke on my own breath. She had begun to wander about the room with surprising grace, arms outstretched and her now bare feet never fully leaving the floor in her apparent desire to know the area… probably to seek out all potential escape routes. My chest collapsed in disheartenment, though I cursed it for being so easily affected by such a new curiosity in my life. Still, like a child seeking comfort from a reality they did not want to admit, I rose to my feet, reticently asking, "Is there something in particular you are looking for, Mademoiselle?"

"Yes; a place to discard that wretched formality, if you please," she laughed, leaving me doubly awed, before turning her head back in my general direction and continuing, "Really, Erik, you must feel free to call me Serena. And, to answer your question more precisely, no. I am just exploring, getting a feel for this place in which I now will be living."

I sighed, her words irking me with their hint of sorrow. "Again, my dear, you need only say the word and I will build you a whole new palace for your use, and your use alone," I reminded her.

She shook her head, chuckling softly. God, did she have any idea _whatsoever_ how much her laugh struck me? Even my newest, most masterful composition could not rival the rich sound of its melodic joy; another shudder ran through me like a cloud of opium… _pure, aching, ecstasy… _

"That is a tremendously chivalrous offer, and I appreciate it, but I must decline. I have heard you are a very busy man, and I would not want to burden you with such a task when I am slowly becoming convinced that I will be quite content here," she assured me, waving a hand about to gesture around the room, hitting my piano in the process. "Oh!" she cried out in surprise, and the exclamation alone brought me a few steps closer to ensure she was not hurt, "What is this?"

"My piano, forgive me. I should have warned you of your proximity to it," I replied. I was about to apologize once more when her entire face lit up with a beam, and, before I could utter another sound, she had fumbled her way to the bench of the instrument and put her fingers on its sleek keys. "Oh, damn—I mean… pardon me… I forgot that standard pianos are not fashioned with braille," she sighed, then gestured me closer. I approached her mechanically with unreserved fascination.

She turned her head towards me and cautiously put her right hand out, pawing at the lapel of my jacket. My heart ascended like a raven into my throat, throbbing mercilessly and tellingly. '_This gesture means nothing to her,' _I had to reiterate over and over in my head like a prayer, '_she is simply trying to assure herself of your presence. Communicating in one of the only ways she can. Nothing. It is nothing...' _

_ "_Is my left thumb on middle C?" she asked me, her finger tapping my chest as she waited for an answer. I could merely nod dumbly for a moment, before realizing even more stupidly that she could not see such a silent, physical response. "Yes, Serena…" I managed, "your left hand is in its correct position." '_And your right is on _me_, over my core— can you feel its tension and hammering with my pulse?' _

"Oh, good! I am not _irreparably_ out of practice, then…" she smiled, pulling her right hand (regrettably, but perhaps more safely with regard to her wellbeing) away from me, briefly touched it to her left, then counting out the crevices between the keys by running her fingers over them and putting it in _its_ correct place. As usual, I had been right… she was musical. Oh, why? _Why? _

She began to play a flowing sonata I immediately recognized as part of Mendelssohn's Sonata in E major. I listened with a childlike wonder; I could not for the life of me wrap my mind around this strange, captivating woman, and that inability was both interminably frustrating and almost addictively exhilarating. My God, she _was _like opium or morphine: I was both appalled by my own indifference to the dangers such a penchant proposed, and yet was both unwilling and unable to even attempt to stop, to stay far away.

Exactly eight minutes and fourteen seconds later (yes, I counted each lovely second of her sweet music), she finished the portion of the piece and transitioned smoothly into another, this one a slower composition: Schubert's D. 960 in B-flat major. I was enraptured, completely lulled by the music she was creating… and she didn't even look like she was trying! She was playing from her _memories, _her expression slightly wistful and heartbreakingly, _hauntingly _lovely; her vacant eyes seeming to come to life to sigh in melancholy but peaceful acceptance.

Those eyes… there was not a single unappealing thing about this girl's physique, not even her blind, dead eyes! They couldn't even be called dead… they were clouded and sightless but even, dare I say it, livelier than most. They glowed with the secrets of a life I couldn't even begin to fathom, a capacity I had never before witnessed from a mere mortal. They twitched as she listened, but instead of radiating an unsettling aura they appeared to be laughing merrily at their evasion of the cruel world around them— their being closed to those whose gazes glimpsed, judged, and hated. A burning envy settled in my throat; she had been born with a defect and yet even that defect was perfectly beautiful. Damn her for being so fortunate; damn her for receiving the privilege of living among others and being loved in return. Damn those eyes of icy, winter-blue clarity which also retained fires of kindness and wit. Damn her for laughing and smirking and unconsciously tempting me… for playing so cherubically that my knees begin to fail me, and I find myself sinking into a chair so as to completely give into her music…

She hit a sour note in her playing, and her face puckered in first a scowl, then in adorable determination as she replayed the section correctly. _'A thing of beauty is a joy forever_,' I thought with a strange mix of bitterness and desire as I stared longingly at that endearing little scowl, _'even when it makes a mistake while playing the piano, leading to one of the most delightful, elegant, completely-and-utterly _kissable_ pouts I have ever seen—'_

No, I mustn't _think _that way!

'_Damn it to hell…_' I inwardly groaned, wishing I could sink down in my chair and disappear without her extraordinarily sensitive ears catching me in the act and asking what was wrong. So instead, my hands gripped the arms of the chairs with fervency enough to splinter it, as I abruptly realized that the moment I let go, I would bound to her side and whisk her off the bench, exchanging her Schubert for my _Don Juan._

Oh God... why me? Wasn't the curse of my deformity punishment enough? How could_ any _man be expected to withstand this… withstand _her_? Without crushing her to him and dragging her back to his bed like a lion does a graceful gazelle, that is…

I closed my eyes to block out at least half of her siren's spell; if I could not see her, she could only affect me with her music. And that was an easier fix: apart from the occasional misplayed note, I could sit back and pretend it was I playing, not her, not this exceptional girl who had been brought here for _me_…

A girl who I had just sworn to protect, who was now my responsibility as long as she was under my jurisdiction. Merde, what a borderline hilarious contradiction that was! I had promised to guard her wellbeing, to shield her from harm… and yet the thing I would spend most of my time protecting her from was the very monster that lay in wait inside me.

That next moment, she began to play "Der Lachende Lied" from _Die Fledermaus, _and as the piano shook and jounced with laughter, I thought it almost laughably _appropriate_ when matched with my frantic thoughts. 'Mon Dieu' was certainly right.

I took a deep breath in an attempt to settle down, sitting back in the chair and focusing solely on the music… letting the melody wash over me like a violent, all-encompassing tidal wave—drowning everything else around it. But unfortunately, that included shutting out entirely my sense of time, my line of sight, my ears towards anything other than the notes soaring out from the piano…

…at least until the music abruptly stopped, accompanied by an alarmed gasp from Serena's immaculately soft lips.

Now… it must be understood that my instincts are impulsive, aggressive, _inhuman _things. And they do not like to be awakened… or to have their music taken from them.

"_Who are you? How did you get in here?_" I snarled with a savage ferocity that surprised even _me_ for a moment. I sprang out of my chair like lightning from a storm cloud, ready to strike swiftly and deftly before watching my target burn in the heat of my destruction. The exclamation came out in Persian, which flowed instinctively out of me now, having acted as my primary and conventional language for some time. I hardly even noticed it when I switched languages now. My head was a personal workshop from which I could extract tools of impeccably perfected tongues—eight, to be exact— at any given moment, without a single hesitation or uncertainty… even in an instant of unbridled wrath such as this.

The first thing I perceived was a small jump on Serena's part, obviously shaken by my animalistic growl. Then, just past her, I focused in on the offenders: two women of the harem who each let out a bloodcurdling scream in response to my threatening stance. But their cries couldn't save them now; they had dared waltz into the cage of the beast and _dared _prod him while he was at rest… and now they would pay.

I advanced toward them, my teeth grit and my eyes practically aflame in their unnatural yellowness. I towered above them ominously, knowing I looked a vision of Death Himself in my black and red clothing, my face bare and skeletal as I stared down at them, seething. I was surprised at this point that they could still make any sound, let alone continue to scream and cower still. Perhaps they were of the Khanum's personal attendance and had simply been numbed to my distortion; she frequently had me take off my mask for her own sadistic pleasure, leaving her girls fainting in horror.

"_I asked you a question!" _I roared, the sheer volume of my voice rattling the floor.

"Th-the Khanum sent us!" one of the girls squeaked, obviously petrified as she stumbled over her own words in her mind's rush to sprint away in her terror.

"On what grounds?!" I hissed, exasperated and enraged simultaneously: a deadly combination of sentiments when it comes to my damnable temper.

"Sh-she wanted us to p-prepare the girl!" the second woman piped up, bursting into sobs the moment she'd finished the last word, "Wash her, anoint her with oils and herbs… get her into fresh clothing!"

"We meant n-no harm! We were simply following orders!" the first added, beginning to cry herself, "please… don't hurt us! G-get away from us! You and your _h-horrible _face…"

The tears did nothing to tame my beastly, searing anger… I had made far too many women scream and cry in my life for it to stun me with grief any longer. It neither surprised not affected me….

…after all, this face had even driven one to a ghastly death off a lovely Italian balcony.

"Couldn't you see we were _busy_?" I barked, my hand slipping discreetly into the inside of my waistcoat, clasping around my little red noose. But before I could take hold of it, a sudden, irritated huff shattered the tension quickly climaxing in the room…

"Good Lord; why on _earth _are you crying? Here you are, sneaking into a man's chambers uninvited, and you expect him not to be, at the very least, _surprised _and _defensive_ when you approach?" It was Serena speaking, her beautiful, flowing French registering with my ears alone, "And then you do nothing but cower as he questions you about… well, about something? How dare you treat such a prominent figure of the shah's court that way! Very disrespect—"

By then, both mine and the girls' eyes were on her, wide with perplexity and fascination. I, because though she should be cringing and trembling alongside these women, faced with the pinnacle of my ire, she was… she was _defending _me. Me, the murderer in the room!

The khanum's servants, on the other hand, were blinking in pure, unadulterated oblivion at every one of her words besides "the shah". She seemed to sense this at the end of her reprimanding, stumbling over to them and taking one of their hands. "Oh, that's right…" she said with a chuckle, "you don't speak French; don't understand me. I can feel the confusion radiating off of you…" at this point, she smiled in sweet innocence, and the girls smiled back, unmindful of her words and yet assured by her lovely expression that they were kind ones!

"Poor dears. I'm sorry I cannot be more accommodating to you in that sense. I suppose I will try to learn Persian eventually… wouldn't want to cause you any more mental strain than I already have," she continued casually, retaining her smile as the harem girls began to coddle her, "though, and forgive me, I don't seem to be the first thing to ever cause you distress with regard to your intelligences… you're staring at me like I am some sort of mindless, helpless creature when in truth you care too much for silks, jewels, and hair ribbons to fill your heads with anything more useful…"

I burst out laughing, making the two women jump once again. I couldn't help myself; had this sharp girl just used the idiocy of her two holier-than-thou caretakers to openly mock them behind the façade of a smile, so they couldn't realize what she was doing if they tried? Even now, she pawed at their arms with that same, adorable smile, lulling them into a false sense of security as they began to coo and cosset her once more.

"So very pretty!" they were giggling, their unease forgotten as they too fell under her spell, "what a rare gem of a pet, with hair like that! And oh, so sweet! Listen to her, trying to talk to us!"

This only spurned my roaring mirth further, earning me some very wary looks from the girls. But Serena simply winked in my general direction before continuing, "Now, I don't know what you want, but I think now that things have calmed down a bit, we can certainly get you what you came for, yes? And Monsieur Erik, in return, gets to see you unknowingly humiliated, since I know you won't instead be apologizing to him for reacting so shallowly to his countenance."

"They… they want to give you a bath, and get you into some new clothes, my dear," I responded in French to her indirect question, a whole new current of amazement hitting me as I finally processed what she had just done. She had seen—though, of course, she was _blind—_a storm brewing, and, to save herself and these two strangers she knew nothing about, she had built a sturdy shelter of humor and wit around them until the havoc had subsided. And I had fallen right into place in her plan, so smoothly that I hadn't even realized my anger had evaporated until I found myself _laughing _from the pure joy of listening to her!

And oh, how good it felt to _laugh_!

I have been here in Persia for nearly a year, and I do not think I have laughed a single time. Hell, this is the first time I've _truly _laughed—sinister chuckles and harsh snorts not included—in _years_. When had I ever had occasion to, until this enchanting little woman came along? When I was locked in a cage, on gypsy display? When I was dodging the spoiled attentions of Master Giovanni's Luciana? And certainly not here, in this city of death and deception! And now, it was nearly frightening to hear, this tangible sound of how tight a hold she had on me already.

"A bath, eh?" she cocked her head, and whether she was listening for something or merely thinking, I could not tell, "the _khanum_ sent women to come run a bath and wash me… hm… is she expecting you to join me, then?"

I froze where I stood, the simplistic words slamming into me and spurning my stallion-like heart into a wild gallop once more. Oh, sweet mercy… why on _earth _would she use such dangerously tempting language? Did she not know what a flesh-eating _monster_ she was teasing? The mere thought of her… sitting on the edge of the tub as it was filled with perfumed oils, delicately stripping herself of her clothing before I descended upon her, taking her in my arms and feeling her burning, naked skin upon mine—_oh, what cruel torture was this_? I had made her a promise...

…and yet how deliciously _easy _it would be to retract that promise here and now, taking her for my own after all. '_Yes, Serena,' _I would say with a feigned sigh, '_she will be. She might even come in to check; we must be ready, just as a precaution…' _

'_No! Wicked, wicked, _wicked_ creature! You shall burn in hell, Erik; how _dare _you mentally corrupt an angel…' _

"No, my dear," I finally sputtered, "she simply sent them to make you more comfortable. You've had a long and—forgive me, as it is no fault of yours—hygienically neglectful journey, and so she sent these women in to help you get cleaned up and freshly clothed."

"I am perfectly capable of bathing myself…" she replied, raising an eyebrow, "but either she doesn't realize that, or—"

"Their instructions, specifically, are to 'prepare' you for my use," I cut her off with a mortified sigh, "so they will be applying ceremonial oils and probably massaging you as well. And their lives depend on the completion of this task as much as yours did in my accepting you."

She grew quiet, and one of the girls waved a hand in front of her cloudy, sightless eyes. Serena sighed, "Do they realize that though I cannot see her hand before my dead eyes, I can still feel the breeze of the motion crashing into my face?"

"Just because they perform their ritual does not mean I have changed my mind about my vow, Serena," I interposed, knowing she had only changed the subject in the first place out of fear of the topic at hand, "They will get you washed up and ready for bed, certainly, but after that they will leave and I will not so much as touch you."

"I know," she said kindly, "you were obviously raised in the ways of a French gentleman, and I cannot tell you how grateful I am for that." Ha! She had no idea how I was raised. I was not taught the ways of a gentleman; I was taught the ways of an abused animal—how to hide and how to stay quiet and how to dodge blows! But I did not tell her such, and a moment later she leaned forward, waving at the air until she found my hand and took it, much to the confusion of the harem girls, "I trust you."

And there it was, my final condemnation. '_You should not trust me, not now or ever!' _I longed to scream, '_you have not heard my thoughts… the things I long to do to you!' _

But at the same time, that proclamation of trust instantly became another, final fortification around her—one I could not break without a death wish in mind. I could never, not that she had placed it in me, betray the confidence of this innocent, kind-hearted woman. Not without being subsequently crushed by the weight of my own conscience. She had inadvertently saved herself all over again.

"Very good," I replied, forcing a smile, "then go get your bath. It is getting late, and you'll be much more comfortable when you lie down to sleep tonight if you're fresh and clean first."

"Alright. Thank you, Erik," she nodded, gracing me with one of her brilliant smiles. I gave the order to the by now extremely disoriented harem girls, who bowed in relief at their being allowed to stay and complete their task before leading Serena into the washroom.

I walked to my desk and sat down, staring at the blueprints I _should_ be editing if I ever hoped to keep my strict building agenda on schedule. But a heartbeat later they were swimming off the page, dancing like a corps de ballet out of Focus's fragile reach. For how could I even attempt to concentrate when I knew that a real, breathing, _stunning _young woman sat obediently in the room just next door? That there was only a thin, wooden barrier between this gloriously beautiful but _naked_ and _vulnerable_ creature of the light, and I, the shunned Prince of Shadows, who had never known the rich pleasure of being with a woman because of my repulsive deformity…

Oh, how _vulgar _and _evil _I felt with each passing thought. Why was it that I couldn't control myself for the sake of this poor girl, after what she had done for me today? For she was such a good, benevolent, docile girl… or, at the very least, she knew when a battle she partook in was a losing one. One tiny resistance here could get her killed; she knew that from what Nadir had told her and other circumstances had hinted. But she was smart enough that—if she played her cards just so—she would not only survive, but perhaps even walk away with some benefits to her name. From her worthless "fiancé", that is… had I not practically promised her the world on a string just a few moments prior? Mon dieu, I was going soft. Was I truly going to allow myself to roll subserviently onto my back like a mutt simply because she had stroked my ravaged face in the right places?

'_Yes,' _a voice inside my mind answered with a spiteful sneer, '_you may have built up an untouchable air about your exterior these past few years, you insufferable corpse, but you will never truly be anything other than the greatest of wretches from the crown of your deformed head to your overtly bony feet.' _

And he was right.

No doubt I would eventually—or perhaps in an even nearer future than that—be willing to jump from the guard's tower if she told me to. I'd always had that sort of love, tirelessly and unconditionally devoted, for the most beautiful things of God's creation. It was the very reason I had been perpetual slave to trying to earn my mother's love.

And if Serena didn't fall under that particular category of immaculate entities, hold one of the highest places on that heavenly inventory, I didn't know what could.

But now she was trapped in the doubtlessly unwanted care of a creature straight from hell. It was a quintessential formula for catastrophe.

And what on God's green earth was I supposed to do to ensure we both survived it? I could feel myself paling at the thought, a sensation I hadn't had to worry about for several years now. It normally took much more than a simple, passing thought to shake me… I suppose today was just a sudden and undeniable anomaly.

I had promised her life and freedom within this new prison she would now be forced to call home… but how long would I be able to deceive the most powerful people in the country to ensure that? They could know by tomorrow, goddammit, if I didn't think quickly. They could know as soon as she stepped out in the morning, just by her obviously and glaringly virginal, faultless countenance! And then they would kill her… and perhaps me too, if the mood was right for an accusation of deception against their most prized court assassin. Merde; why must my remarkable mind be blank of schemes and machinations now, of all times? _No one else could die because of me!_

The Khanum's coerced ritual took a bit over an hour, and I scoured my mind frantically for a solution until the moment the washroom door opened back up. I considered escape routes, illusions, bribes, risks…

But what little progress I had made in her absence all disappeared as if it had never existed as soon as she stepped back into the room.

I was first hit with the most mesmerizingly delectable haze of aromas I had ever before inhaled. Rose, vanilla, sweet licorice root… citrus, lavender, lemon… Saigon marshmellow leaf and cinnamon bark. All of my favorite scents in the world in one, irresistible breath. It was better than opium, hashish… and yet I could not bring myself to continue inhaling it; I held my breath, and I would not turn around.

What a sly _snake _the Khanum was! Just under a month ago, she had come to me after a demonstration, requesting I list out my most favorite fragrances. "_I will have them imported!" _she had said to me as I'd begun to protest this useless exercise, "_and then they can be infused with your daily doses of ecstasy… you will love what I create for you, I'm_ sure _of it." _

Oh, and I _did_. It was like I had been handed an entirely new drug to revel in as it slowly filled the room, and knowing it now exuded from _her _was nearly too much to bear—

"Sir Dark Angel? We have finished with her; she is prepared just as our queen requested, for your use," one of the harem girls piped up quaveringly, as if awaiting a slap in the face.

'_I'm certain she is,' _I groaned internally, '_that sadistic woman wanted to be _certain _her new gift would not escape without a consummation tonight.' _

"Thank you," I answered quietly, still not looking back at where they stood, "you may go."

They thanked me, bestowed one last blessing on Serena despite her lack of comprehension, and shuffled out of my wing.

"Well… that was a peculiar experience," I heard Serena begin with a chuckle as soon as the door had shut behind them, "do you know how tense many months of boat travel can make you? Well, neither did I until they had massaged every nook and cranny of my body to relieve me of it."

I cursed the god who was obviously out to get me—to cast me into hell—squeezing my eyes shut in the crippling effort it took _not _to whip around to face her. To drink in the sight of that freshly kneaded body, to give the Khanum exactly what she wanted…

"Well, I am relieved you have been pampered a bit after all they put you through to bring you here," I told her, trying to mask the strained hoarseness in my voice but knowing that, with her, I wouldn't be fooling anyone, "I am certain you must be very tired, too, so please feel free to go to bed as soon as you wish to."

"Thank you, Erik; you have been too kind." The relief in her tone was evident. "But… forgive me… I don't know the wing. Could you come closer, show me where I'm going?"

'_Show me your bedroom, Erik. Help me… find my way there.' _This woman was hell. Her every word was hell, her innocence and naivety towards the implications those words proposed in my twisted mind was hell. And her beauty and overall appeal, most of all, was _hell. _

I turned around slowly, swallowing and taking a deep breath in of that compulsively intoxicating air. And then, I caught a glimpse of that blistering, magnificent hell… and there was pure _fire. _

They had dressed her—probably taking advantage of the fact that she would not reject it based off of its _look_—in what seemed the sheerest possible fabric without being completely transparent. It was two pieces—a lovely, rich, purple garb—with a skirt that stopped just over her ankles and a sleeveless top. The material _clung _to her, hugging each curve like a loving mother does her child, and as I stood to walk towards her, the movement shifted the air and made the skirt billow… revealing a slit in the side and the briefest of glimpses of her pale, _bare _legs…

And the closer I got, oh, the more she glowed! If she had been lovely before, she was now absolutely, astonishingly angelic after the remnants of her harsh journey here had been scrubbed away.

She had to be what salvation looked like, in all her natural, youthful, fresh-faced glory… and the sight of her both awed and ruined me. I suddenly knew what Samson must have felt like when he had found out that both his love and his God had betrayed him; I too wanted to bring down a temple with my bare hands, knowing that she was real and she was here and yet she would never be mine.

I reached her then, trying to ignore the boiling beneath my skin as she reached out and took ahold of my upper arm. Her closeness was undoing me; the Khanum's sweet toxin mixed with the way the tiniest of expectant smiles played upon her lips brought a certain, discomfiting tautness to an area of my personage I'd rather not specify.

I led her in silence to my bedroom, verbally explaining how to get there as we went so she may never again be unsure of its whereabouts—or need _my _assistance in getting there. No sooner had we arrived did I sit her down on the bed and promptly turn to leave again, but I didn't get very far at all before she cried out, "Just one moment!"

The exclamation stopped me in my tracks, though I knew I should be dashing out of there before I did something I would immensely regret. "Yes, my dear?" I answered her evenly, turning my head back only slightly to look at her. How _beautiful _she looked, the little temptress, sitting on the edge of _my bed_, wearing clothing so thin… that perfectly blended scent rubbing off from her skin onto the sheets—

'_Enough!' _The voice of my self-control had escalated to a deafening snarl in my head now; I may have been envying my bed in that moment, but I had not forgotten how beneath her I was. I was a lowly beast living in the most shadowed corner of the earth, and as a result, I could never hope to deserve such a goddess of beauty. The only offering I could ever make her was that of protection and friendship, as she had requested earlier… and even that was an undeserved blessing! For, apart from Nadir, of course, I had never had a true friend. And to have finally found one in a girl so suited to my, well, _specific _flaws… that was the true gift—and nothing more than that. But though nothing more, it was still the most precious gift I had ever received, and I'd be even more damned than my current state of being if I ever lost it because of a tactless, oafish lapse in behavior.

"You said… you said this was _your _room?" she questioned, tilting her head to the side slightly in confusion (and probably concern).

"Yes, Serena. But now you may call it yours; I don't use it much as it is. And when I must, now, I will sleep on the chaise or on the floor," I explained so that she might not think I was going to attack her as soon as I had locked the door.

"I will not have that!" she protested abruptly, surprising me into turning fully back around, "Let me sleep on the chaise or on the floor; I will not drive you from your own bed."

I sighed, her generous mindset continuing to amaze me. "Nonsense. You are the lady; I would not dare deny you a bed to sleep in. Besides, as subsequently stated, I do not spend much of my time sleeping," I told her.

She crossed her elegant arms, and I had to look away a moment so her unintentional enticement did not distract me from my argument. "_Much _of your time. But _some _of your time, you do. Yes?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Well… yes. I have never needed as much sleep as everyone else does, but I suppose I am still partially human in the sense that I do require some," I rolled my eyes, knowing she could not see my bitterness.

"Well then, I will not reject your insistence. But you must promise me that the few times you _do _find yourself in need of your bed to sleep in, you will simply push me to one side and do so, alright?" she stated boldly, once again staring at me with such clarity and perception that it made me momentarily forget her blindness.

You poor, stubborn child, Serena… you are playing a very dangerous game with a very disturbed but deft monster for an opponent! How could she dare offer to _share the bed_ with me when she knew very well why she had been brought here in the first place? Was she attempting to test the strength and dependability of my earlier pledge: my trustworthiness? Or was she simply naïve, in her maidenhood, and trying to continue bestowing the kind acceptance she knew I had never before received in order to keep herself alive? Either way, I had to bite my tongue to suppress a groan…

I had to get away from her for a while, to stop inhaling that sweet potion the Khanum had gifted her with… let all thoughts of her seep from my jumbled head…

To let the initial shock of the impact she had made upon me wear off so I could see where I _truly _stood on her being here… her being _my _responsibility.

"Alright, Serena," I said after a minute of silent disbelief, "I promise."

"Good. Because I trust you; you have given me no reason to fear you apart from…" she trailed up, a single hand drifting up to her neck and pawing the ugly, purple bruises _I _had put there. My eyes widened in horror as she winced and returned her hand quickly to her side, then finished, "And I hope I have not given you reason to fear me, in return."

"Do you… do you need some ice, or a wet cloth for that?" I interrogated concernedly, biting my lip as once again, I was condemned by her simplest action.

She blushed, folding her hands in her lap. "Oh no, forgive me. I'm sure it looks worse than it feels, because it truly hardly hurts at all! _Is _it showing?"

"Yes, I'm afraid so. My deepest apologies… though I know even they can never be enough for such an appalling exploit," I mumbled, looking down at the carpet in agonized shame.

But once again, she was smiling. Was this girl foutu mad?_ How could she be smiling?! _"Please; it is behind us. I know that my arrival was a rather… _shocking_ experience for you. But we have started fresh. Thank you for giving me such a comfortable place to sleep, and for… well, everything."

I knew instantly that this "everything" she referred to could only be my promise to protect her life and virginity. I found I could only reiterate back an unadorned "You're welcome" as guilt pulsed through me from all the thoughts I had entertained this evening which had done just the opposite of that. Then I turned once again towards the exit, but not before she had laid down and whispered a sleepy, "Goodnight, Erik."

"Goodnight, Serena," I replied in a tone nearly inaudible before stepping out of the room. '_And yes, my dear… you have given me plenty of reason to fear you. You frighten me immensely.' _

**A/N:**** Hello, my Merry Saturday Lovers of Old French Literature! I hope you're all having a lovely day. :D**

**Well, here you go… a peek into Erik's mind and his many, many thoughts on his new companion. Love it? Hate it? Love Erik? Hate the Khanum? She only gets worse, let me tell you. **

**And yes, I am fully aware that "Der Lachende Lied" from **_**Die Flaudermaus **_**did not come out until 1874, while this story takes place around 1856, but for the sake of convenience and an author who didn't want to have to jump through hoops for such a little detail pleaseforgivemylapse! **

**Otherwise… let me hear your thoughts! You know by now how much I love hearing from you. The question of the week is: How did you come to be introduced to **_**Phantom **_** (any of its adaptations: book, movie, musical…)?**

**And also, in honor of Erik feeling like Samson, the **_**song **_**of the week is "Samson" by Regina Spektor. Love you all, hope to hear from you soon! **

**~DonJuana**


	9. Chapter 9

_**Serena's POV**_

I cannot recall another time when I had felt so, utterly ready to sleep.

And yet, at the same time, I could not remember the last time I had felt so overwhelmed and petrified as I had but moments before.

I had felt, with apprehensive discomfort, his passionate eyes boring into me, despite his being the entire room's length from where I had lain. God bless the poor man; he was so lonely, and I could palpably feel that… and yet he had made a promise, and would _keep_ that promise no matter how much effort he had to put forth. His chivalry was an immense relief; I had been exceptionally lucky when one considered the culture and standards of where I was—how trivially women were regarded, especially when it came to their subservience to the figureheads of society.

But even that could not assuage my racing heart, nor slow my panicked thoughts as I curled up in the bed he had offered me.

_That I, in return, had offered we share._

It had just slipped out. I hadn't thought a thing of it, since there had seemed to be only one bed paired, with my shame at driving him from its comfortable sheets when it was, in fact, his in the first place! But only after he had turned to go with a newfound swiftness and desperation did I realize just how provocative that must have sounded to his masculine ear. _"Damn it, Serena... are you trying to get yourself into even deeper distress?"_

Oh, I was so frightened… I was in a strange place far from the home I knew, to be married to a man who had already once made an attempt on my life in a moment of innate ferocity, surrounded by people who would think even _less _of killing me should I do even the slightest thing to displease them. Or perhaps it was not bodily death I needed worry about, but the massacre of my maidenhood by that lustful Shah…

I was so intensely terrified that, in months that seemed _long_ past, now, I would have been sobbing like a quaking, sniveling child—unable to work through my fears with the rationality I always invoked to deal with everything else in my life. But now, after months on a rickety old boat crossing the dubious, fickle ocean while trapped in a cage like some sort of exotic beast, I found I had no more tears to shed. What good would they do me, anyway, apart from the thorough spending of the last of my energy? I needed to stay alert, in case a situation should arise that requires some vigilance.

But the more I thought about it, the more I wondered... would there ever be a moment of my time here in Persia that was not in need of the most extreme prudence and watchfulness? I had begun to break out in a cold sweat as I thought of all I had experienced so far, and of what happened to girls like me in places like this one...

My mind flashed abruptly to an incident I had been faced with on the boat, the mere memory of it spurring on my pounding heart.

_It had been a normal day—normal, of course, in reference to the routine that had been established for me since I'd been forced onto this wretched, floating prison. One of the men had just brought me my food, and I'd taken it gingerly before waiting anxiously to hear the slam of the door so I could dispose of the drugged fruit._

_But not even a retreating footstep reached my ear; the sailor remained, standing right outside of my cage._

_I sat there in silence for several moments, listening and wondering why in the world he lingered. I must have looked such a dumb creature, crouching there on my hands and knees, frozen to the spot..._

_A shift in the air. Then, suddenly, I heard the cage door shriek open, that unmistakable sound of metal on metal driving me into the back corner, holding my ears. That was my first mistake. I had taken away the advantage of my supernormal sense of hearing, and was now both blind _and_ deaf..._

_I felt a slight vibration in the floor of the enclosure, as if something had been dropped onto it. But before I could even begin to process what it could be, what could be disrupting my routine, I was suddenly being grabbed by the wrists and forced to the ground, a great weight pressing down on me from above and holding me there. I cried out in shock, only to have my mouth covered by the reeking, rough, indubitable hand of one of my captors. _

_There was a man atop me, for reasons I could now guess as he pulled up my skirt, and I could do nothing but scream into his hand as he corrupted me._

_I thrashed as violently as I could while crushed beneath his weight, shouting and screaming as praying that someone hear me despite the sounds being muffled by both hand and wall. But the man simply adjusted his weight so I could hardly breathe, let alone move, and chuckled in chilling, unrecognizably sloppy French, "No no... be good, corpse bride. Be good..."_

_I doubt I will ever forget the way his fishy breath hit my face and how my dread at those words was so great that I thought I would be physically sick. I wanted to die, for a quick, merciless death to spare me of this shame, this horror... the aftershocks I knew would remain as a blind victim of rape._

_And, to my astounding relief, I got something better than a sudden death... (though, after the panic I had just gone through, was it truly better?)_

__"کورس! چه کار می کنید، شما احمق تحمل؟"

_Another one of the men had entered, yelling in that frantic language I did not understand... I did not comprehend the meaning of his words, but I could hear the anger in them._

_The man above me replied, "_موزش دوست کوچک فرانسه ما یک یا دو چیز در مورد عشق فارسی."_ and the smirk in his voice was evident. I had begun to choke for lack of air, and was fading out quickly..._

"شما این لحظه بعد خاموش او، و یا من به قطع اندام خود را و پرتاب آنها را به جانوران دریا!"

"اما سنجر، او است بنابراین بسیار زیبا -"

"فعال او! او نیاز به یک عروس باکره را فرشته عذاب است. اگر او می رسد خاکی در برابر دستور شاه، ما برای آن را با زندگی کردن پرداخت!"***

_Moments later the weight was gone from my chest, and I rolled over, gasping for air and fighting back sobs before everything, not just my eyes, went dark..._

_(_***TRANSLATION IS AS FOLLOWS:

-Kouros! What are you doing, you insufferable fool?-

-Teaching our little French friend a thing or two about Persian love.-

-You will get off her this next instant, or I will cut off your limbs and throw them to the beasts of the sea!-

-Sanjar, she is so very beautiful— -

-Off her! She needs to be a virgin bride for the Angel of Doom. If she arrives soiled against the Shah's instruction, we will pay for it with our lives!-)

My eyes snapped open with a gasp, and I sat up quickly. I had taken great care to block that out, but now it all came flooding back as I lay here plagued by the silence and my own thoughts. The bed felt very large and daunting indeed as I lay there trembling, and I found myself wishing with a subconscious blush that Erik would in fact return to take me up on my offer, just so I wouldn't be in the room and this suddenly very intimidating bed all alone. But with my twisted sort of protector gone, nothing remained to chase away those awful recollections… my terror at the more recent events of the day… the oppressive uncertainty which plagued me ceaselessly as I wondered what on _earth _I was going to do.

I hadn't even stepped foot on Persian soil before I was nearly violated in the most intimate and irreparable way! Let alone the reason I was brought here in the first place…

How horribly I felt for thinking so skeptically of a man I hardly knew, a man who had suffered such unimaginable agonies in his two or three decades of life. Poor Erik, the Living Corpse….

But at the same time, how could I help it when every single event I had experienced as of far in both my journey and my day here _screamed _at me to run, to cry, to cower in fear? The rough men on the boat… the shah and the way he had hungrily caressed me… the shrill, cold voice of his mother… _everyone _I'd met since I was taken from France seemed to want to hurt me in one way or another. Well, everyone except Nadir, and…

…Erik.

My hand went instinctively to my throat once more, where the now _very _tender skin just beneath my jawline throbbed with my racing pulse. Hadn't tried to hurt me? He could have killed me. He would have, _wanted_ to… simply because I had touched him. By now I understood _why_, of course; that face of his, being so… bizarre… well, I knew how cruel humans could be to that which they did not understand. He had most likely been physically abused at _least _once in his life, let alone the scathing comments I'm certain had been directed towards him left and right. The strain treatment so frightful would leave on one's mentality would certainly be enough to result in such rash paranoia.

I could understand it, yes, but I could not bring myself to fully excuse it. _For what if, next time, I was not so lucky as to escape with my life? _

The magnitude of wrath, I firmly believe, would have been entirely unimaginable had I not been sitting mere feet from him when he snapped. I had never before been faced with such a vengeful, barbaric, quick-fused temper as when he had snarled like some feral beast and jumped up from his chair at the sound of my surprised gasp. He must have thought that the surprising new occupants of the room were threatening me—and consequently him—in some way, though how he could have missed their entering in the first place was beyond me…

Then he berated and stalked to them as if they were holding a _knife _to his throat, not offering their services by orders of the queen. And all I could think of as he drew closer and closer to those strange, blubbering girls was, '_He has hurt others before…' _

I do not know exactly when I had begun talking out loud. I only started hearing my own words once a hush had fallen over the room, and I could feel three pairs of perplexed eyes upon me. And there _was _some truth behind the statements that came spilling out! Erik had only been surprised; they shouldn't have just barged into his quarters unsummoned—screaming at the sight of him as if they were entirely the victims! No… none of what I babbled was fabricated in duplicity; I doubt I would have been able to say anything at all if I had been making it all up! But they _were _an attempt at distracting him from his fury… the women may have disrespected and dehumanized him in his own home, but they certainly did not deserve to be maimed for it.

And that attempt had been proven successful… Erik had listened. Laughed! Not realized or simply _allowed_ me to maneuver him away from his bubbling indignation and into a more light-hearted state of mind. I could hardly comprehend it, though I now found myself saying a prayer of thanks that it had worked. But had it been beginner's luck, or…

Perhaps it was a direct result of his being so physically attracted to me… he had listened because he was hoping to earn my trust so that he might later on get a reward in return—

'_Oh you horrible, ungrateful girl! _I hissed internally as I curled up, pulling my knees up to my chest beneath the blankets. I could not believe myself more and more with each passing thought. Here I was, dragged to this dangerous country by coercion—yet the man I had been brought here to marry was, while obviously dangerous and slightly unstable, a righteous, chivalrous soul who had promised me my virtue despite his civil right to it! I should be praising God that I was _his _"gift", not letting chary thoughts drive me into a state of panic.

And, I realized, if I wanted to survive here, I was going to _have _to learn to banish these frantic thoughts. To _fully _trust him.

But could I? Did I already, somehow?

I could empathize with him, to a certain extent… I too had been born with a defect that had caused people to treat me differently. Not cruelly, as I was now certain he had been regarded, but differently, definitely. An outcast of sorts. And once two people have related to one another on such a level, it is difficult to just take a step back and pretend it had never happened!

Not to mention the great care he had taken with me so far… for it was obvious, as subsequently stated, that he was, at the very least, drawn to me. That was manifest in his every stiff movement, the burning feeling of his every lingering, passionate gaze, his boiling papery skin which pulsed with the desirous thrum of his accelerated heartbeat… Erik had long been denied physical love and by _God _did he want it now. But he had forced himself to swallow those blistering coals of yearning; he had refrained and led me around with mumbled responses to my questions like the greatest of gentlemen. And how could I not trust _that? _

In truth, he had treated me with more respect and attentiveness than some of the men back at home would have. For he had not addressed me simply and apathetically, as they often had (or as I'm certain many of the other men around here _would _have as they forced me back onto the bed to assuage themselves!), but with prudent, thoughtful words and actions. It was amazing, really, how in control of himself he was despite being in such a powerful position in which he could have just done what he wanted, as opposed to what was right. I _was_ impressed, and I found that I did in fact seem to trust him.

And as soon as that resolution had passed through my mind, it was as if a world of apprehension had been lifted off my shoulders. I had someone I knew I could trust in this frightening place… not to mention someone so well-built and daunting that could easily keep me safe should anything pose a threat to me. And all for the price of artless companionship, friendship to one who had never been allowed—or, perhaps allowed _himself_—such natural human camaraderie before. That was nothing I couldn't handle, especially when said companion was so mysterious, so endlessly, fascinatingly gifted...

But would he find me equally as interesting? Oh dear; would I be able to keep from boring him, a _genius_, when I was so… ordinary? What if he should grow dissatisfied with me and get rid of me, as he had the other woman—

No… he had said himself that he had learned from that mistake, that he would not be the cause of another innocent's death. He hadn't known when he'd sent her away—another morally upright gesture, I might add!—that she would be executed; now that he did, he would keep me for that reason, if nothing else.

I was safe.

Oh, how wonderful a phrase that was! How glorious a thought: no more rough men would touch me simply because I could not see them coming. So long as I _acted _the part of a wife, my "fiancé" and Persian tradition would act as my shield. But now the question was indeed, how was I to act it?

Well, firstly, I would have to stay by Erik's side at all times… apart, of course, from the days he was away on business for the shah. During those periods in solitude, I quickly made a mental note, I must find Nadir, or perhaps make myself another trustworthy friend to stay with. For though I knew that as long as I was considered Erik's property and he was present to claim me, I would be virtually untouchable. But God only knew what would happen once he had disappeared and I was left alone and vulnerable.

I would have to tend to my dark master's needs; I knew he would protest my waiting upon him—ever the gentleman—in his dedication to his promise, but I didn't see how I could avoid it if I was to appear at all genuine. Besides, I didn't mind. I enjoyed cooking, cleaning, doing odd jobs around the home… I'd always been a hard worker, and, as a result, such things had become an intuitive part of my daily routine. Yes, I could easily play the part of housewife… it was only other areas of wifeliness that I knew next to nothing about. And that was the aspect Erik had already quite vehemently declared I would not have to perform. Perhaps, in later weeks, we would kiss in public to abolish wholly any outside suspicions. But, besides that (which made me color bright red all over again!), my role was a relatively easy and extremely familiar one. Oh praise God; perhaps I would eventually grow comfortable here! For the only things left that I truly feared were the Shah and his mother…

But no, I would not think of them tonight. I was exhausted, I had thought through the majority of my concerns and how I would control them, and now it was time to banish the ones I had no control over to the backmost part of my consciousness. To wind down, to fall into a _peaceful _sleep…

I resolved to focus on more trivial thoughts, thoughts that would not lead to any deeper contemplations and would (I certainly hoped!) eventually lull me to sleep. The first that came to mind was, unsurprisingly, of the rich scent emanating off of me; I had been breathing it in since I had stepped out of the long, warm bath I had been given. Perhaps that is why I had not so much as protested when those strange women began to scrub every part of my body, having no boundaries or inhibition as they cleansed and massaged and chattered over me—the sweet odor was practically paralyzing in its delicate, intoxicating saccharinity. Upon my first few inhalations, I found my head swimming in the dizzy haze the cloud put me in, as if it were not simply oils but some sort of sorceress's potion! I recognized rose, vanilla, lavender… but they were blended in perfect harmony with an array of other aromas I didn't recognize in a way that somehow enhanced their pleasurable scents even further, instead of just overwhelming them. It made me wonder what sort of expensive, lavish oil it was, and why the Khanum had given it to me…

But no, I could not let my mind drift there! Not if I ever wanted to get to sleep, and there was no doubt that, starting tomorrow, I would need that rest. I set back to my petty observations, settling next on the clothing I wore…

Oh, I don't think I have even worn such fine, supple garments! I could tell that the fabric was very thin indeed—another conquest for Erik, I couldn't help but add as I imagined what I must have looked like, based off of the times my dear friends had attempted to explain what sheerness appeared like for those with sight—but it was so soft and snug and silky on my skin that I didn't care. Besides, I was in the desert now. I doubt I would be wearing anything much thicker ever again, even when I was out and about during the day. But I was perfectly content with such a notion, so long as any future outfits were as sleek and comfortable as this one!

And then there was the bed… mon Dieu, why had I been worried about climbing into it? I never wanted to leave it, now. It was obviously very expensively cushioned, for I sank down into the mattress as if it were molded specifically to fit my body. The sheets which encompassed me were silk, and somehow kept me at such a temperature that, despite the Arabian night being balmy and arid, I was just warm _and _just cool enough. Erik's entire wing, in fact, was a wonderfully pleasant temperature… no doubt another miraculous product of his virtuosity…

And it was beginning to placate me into lethargy. The combination of the nightclothes, the strong perfume, and the gloriously soft bed left me heavy-eyed and fading quickly, and soon I found that I could only move my lips to smile as I sank lower and lower into the bed. But no sooner was I barely half conscious did those troublesome thoughts return: the khanum's sharp laugh, the shah's impious hands, the breath of the man who had tried to violate me on the boat… I longed to pull the covers up over my head like a small child, but found that I was not alert enough to move. Oh, I was so frightened… would not anyone come to help me?

God only knows how long I lay there, drifting in and out of this occult, anxious half-consciousness. I swiftly lost track of what was dream and what was waking reality…

…but at one point, I could have sworn I felt the mattress beneath me sag with the weight of another being clambering onto it, followed by a peaceful period of untroubled solace.

~o~0~o~

_**Erik's POV**_

"_Come and see the Living Corpse!" _

_A thrum of anxious excitement and thrilled, terrified anticipation washed over the crowd. I had long ago stopped holding out hope that perhaps they would remain excited once my mask had fluttered to the floor of my prison, appreciate me for my talents and ignore my cursed appearance. _

_I began my routine, playing my precious violin and singing arias for them. I made the opulent hat of a rich old woman in the crowd talk, earning me everything from gasps of awe to accusations of satanic involvement. I even was allowed to sketch one of the paying observers, today… but as soon as I had finished and revealed my completed masterpiece to the crowd, Javert entered and ripped my mask from my face. _

_Screaming. Sobbing. Women fainting, men shouting death threats. As I child, I would have been frightened by such commotions. Now, they were simply an inescapable part of my life which irritated me only in their lack of musicality. You could write symphonies about the feeling of human misery, but there was no way to put into a sonata the senseless noise of that which caused it. _

_I was beaten next, to appease the uproarious crowd, and then my cage was locked once more and they were all led out, leaving me along in my tent. I lie motionless on the floor in fear of enhancing the pain…_

_But then, I realized that I was not alone after all. _

_I turned my head slightly to see a young girl standing by the bars of my cage… a young girl with long, silken red hair, bright blue eyes, and the most angelically beautiful face I had ever seen…_

_I was instantaneously drawn to her, and, despite the throbbing it caused, I sat up and crawled to where she stood, mere inches from my bare, emaciated face. She smiled at me then, the stunning grin appearing like the sun breaking through the ireful, swirling clouds of a hurricane. I was choked; when had anyone ever looked at me in all my abominable ugliness and _smiled_? Much less one as beautiful as she—_

_A moment later, she was gone. I was no longer in my cage. I was in a tent… the finest tent in the entire gypsy camp… and I was on the ground of that tent, my back pressed up against the costly carpet as Javert grinned with wolfish lust down at me—_

My eyes snapped open, and I sat up with a shuddering gasp as my hand flew instinctively to my Punjab lasso. I was still at my desk, and whether I had actually fallen asleep or simply drifted off into one of my dark, waking nightmares, I did not know.

I had what my halfway friend Marie Perrault used to call an "overactive imagination". She, being a longtime companion of my mother, had known what had truly caused my morbid conceptions and rancorous machinations—abuse and neglect—but she had always seemed to want to justify it… though whether to me or to herself as she let my mother beat me each day, I never quite figured out. All I was certain of is that I had been thoroughly scarred as a child, and we all know—I most of all—that the largest scars never do fully heal.

I sat back in my chair, reaching up to take my mask off before realizing it was already hanging neatly on a hook in the corner of the room. I could only stare at it for a moment, remembering that part of my dream that was in fact, not merely a vision…

…_or was she?_ Dare I hope that the occurrences of the day had been a tangible reality, not simply the sweetest dream I had ever been blessed with? They seemed so… so _impossible, _Goddammit!

I stood up suddenly, the fingers of my left hand twitching uncertainly as I walked to the door and gazed down the hallway. Mon dieu, I shouldn't. It wasn't… wasn't right. _I had made a promise…_

But how could I know that I had _truly _made such a vow if I did not first reaffirm that she was real?

_Serena… that was the pretty, red-headed girl's name. Serena…_

I stumbled down the hall to the door, reaching for the door after a moment's hesitation and opening it the tiniest of guilty cracks.

My eyes had always been very attuned to the dark; it was one of the things my mother always found so unsettling about me. But my catlike vision had come in handy, many a time…

There she was. Lying quietly on my bed, her breathing slightly uneven and her face puckered in some sort of slumbering distress. Oh, she was _so _beautiful… not nearly as beautiful as in my vision, when she was smiling so brilliantly, but beautiful nonetheless…

'_I wonder why she looks so uneasy, even in her sleep… no doubt she is dreaming of you; you monster, you impious beast!' _Javert's cold laugh reverberated in my head, and I had to bite my lip to stifle a moan of trepidation and angst.

When had I entered the room, walked to the bedside? How long had I been standing above her, staring in conflict? I so longed for comfort, for a woman to hold me and whisper to me that she would make the world bright again for me, to be able to kiss every inch of her body without her flinching away in disgust—

I knew what I wanted. But, despite my drowsiness and indistinctness of thought, I also knew what I had guaranteed and undertaken. I had sanctioned that she was real, and now I had to get out before she woke and found me standing before her like a thief in the night.

But when I looked back at the door, I could practically see Javert standing there, beckoning me back into my ghastly, petrifying nightmares with that same, hungry smile.

And tonight, after being uncovered and left so vulnerable by the woman lying not five feet from where I stood, I couldn't find the strength to face them.

So instead, I slipped off my shoes and shrugged off my waistcoat, shamefaced and guilt-ridden as a child, and slid silently into the bed at her feet. I dared not lie next to her, as a normal man would his _wife_—I could never hope to deserve such comfort, such blessed pleasure. But, curled up at her feet, feeling the warmth of another living, breathing presence not inches away… I found my thin eyelids closing as I slipped into one of the first dreamless respites I have experienced in months.

**Rough A/N:**** Hello my dear readers! I know I'm posting a bit later in the day; I've had some long rehearsals lately. But here is the newest installment; I hope you enjoy it!**

**Notice the parallels between parts one and two (Serena and Erik's POV's): the restless dreams, the longing for comfort… foreshadowing, perhaps? I suppose you'll just have to wait and see… **

**Song of the week: 'Vulnerable' by Secondhand Serenade! **

**Question of the week: In honor of the Khanum's wily, evil concoctions… what's your favorite scent? I'd have to say mine's vanilla… but new books, lavender, and wet concrete (I know… but weird as it sounds I love it!) come in close second, third, and fourth. R&R an answer, a critique, an idea you'd like to see… I'm very open to those considerations! I don't bite; sometimes they even inspire an event in my stories! Much love, m'dears! ~DonJuana**


	10. Chapter 10

_**Erik's POV**_

As the run rose the following morning, I found myself once again jolting awake, drenched in a cold sweat with a frantically racing heart. But, while a dream had once again been the cause, it had not been Javert who had haunted me this time… instead my new, redheaded companion had once again taken center stage in my reverie.

Only this time…

_I could feel her pulse racing as my hands travelled feverishly up her bare arms, coming to rest on her wrists. She gasped from beneath me, her head tipping back and allowing my eager mouth access to the soft, faultless skin of her pale neck… _

Oh God… had I truly just fantasized about…

_ "E-Erik…" she breathed softly, her lovely little voice—laden with an aching, yearning _necessity—_driving me out of my head as I reached down and pulled her completely to me. I caressed and kissed and tasted her burning skin as she arched against me—_

I gasped in near horror and practically _leapt_ out of the bed, trying to keep my eyes from drifting to where Serena lay, but finding myself unable to keep from glancing her way. Oh, Christ in heaven…

If I had thought she had looked irresistibly charming last night in the dark, she now looked wholly _exquisite _while bathed in the light of the morning sun. All of the tension caused by the confusion and fear of the previous day had dissipated from her face, leaving it relaxed and oh-so-comely in her latent state. Her rosy lips were drawn up into the tiniest of peaceful _smiles, _and she was curled up under my black silk sheets in such a way that my meandering gaze down the impeccable curves of her form was practically inevitable. And I had lain with her the whole night… _dreaming of her in the most intimate way… _

Once again I found my head spinning, and I immediately forced myself to look away and leave the bedroom, shutting the door behind me. I could _not _allow myself to be in her presence when such vulgar thoughts still lingered in my mind. Not when I was already struggling so laboriously to keep my composure while around her.

I could not believe I had actually fallen asleep while lying so remarkably close to her, let alone dared allow even the most unmanageable of my thoughts—my dreams—to attempt to take any more than I had already been so graciously given. I hardly knew her, for God's sake! And what I _did _know left me certain that she was innocent, benevolent, and so utterly perfect that I could never hope to be worthy of even her friendship. Yet I was already so wickedly imagining our bodies entangled in a passionate haze...

While, at the same time, the tiniest part of me was whispering reassuring bearings: '_Come now, Erik, you cannot be so hard on yourself. What man could have such an incontestable beauty lying alluringly in his bed and _not _be plagued with such delusions?' _And while I knew that inner voice was right, I could not help but continue to chastise myself as I sat down at my desk, drumming my fingers fretfully on the sleek wood. Mon dieu, this was going to be a long…

Rest of my life? It was hitting me truly now that marrying this girl would only extend the torture she was putting me through. Could I really handle keeping my extremely trying pledge every day for the remainder of my existence? How long would my self-restraint last before coming crumbling down atop her, burying her in its ruins?

_How glorious her soft lips felt as they clung desperately to mine, as I buried myself into her—_

'_Glorious indeed…' _I thought uncomfortably, feeling my cheeks redden hotly. Did lovemaking truly feel as wonderful as it had in the vision? '_As I wouldn't know…' _I continued bitterly. Every woman I had ever met in my lifetime had either been afraid of or disgusted with me. They would shy away from me, strike me, scream at the sight of me… I had long ago come to sullenly accept that I would never lie with a woman, never have a lover or a wife like any other man. And what a dreadful realization that is for a man in mid-twenties to be forced to grasp… a practically unheard of resolution, for anyone else but I! It simply was not _fair_... yet inequitableness was another phenomenon I knew all too well. I was resentful of it, but it had been so often beaten into me that I had come to dejectedly accept it. For I could not change the viewpoints of others, with a countenance as mine— average humans were far too fickle for such an implausible conversion.

_ 'Unless they had no sight whatsoever…' _

She had been so kind thus far… stroking my naked face with the prudence of one who might actually care what became of me… promising me compliant companionship…

_So compliant that perhaps I would be able to fulfill my longings unprotested?_

No, enough! Cast those dreams to the backmost part of your mind, Erik! You are a horrendous monster of a man; if you can even be called a man!

_But don't such sultry thoughts make me even more of a man? Further prove my humanity, not reduce it? _

Not with you, you demon from hell! Other men are allowed such—but with you, they only _prove _you to be viler than your deathly face! The only way for _Erik_ to prove his manhood is to be the finest gentleman in Persia—no, in the world! For he _is _the last remaining gentleman in Persia… ha! It is not a difficult feat to be the master of chivalry in a place where kidnapping young girls to satisfy the piggish urges of rich bastards is considered honorable, not appalling. He would have to be the strongest, most civil man in the _world_… that was the true trial! And Erik was never one to back down from a challenge, oh no. He would be the most principled fiancé the world had ever seen… caress young Serena with words, not touches, revere her with small acts of simple consideration, not one act of the most significant form of worship of women. Even once he was a groom, with her as his bride! Ha! Is that not even more than he had come to expect, with all he has gone through in his pitiful existence? _He would have a wife_! A marriage, albeit loveless, as if he were entirely human, and not a freak on display for all the world to see, but never dare to touch. A wife to take out on Sundays, who would willingly speak to him and smile at him like the good little obedient bride she had promised to be…

To take out on Sundays… that was and always had been one of his dreams, mind you. Ever since that wretched doctor had begun coming around to court his mother… it had always been Sundays. And ooh, how _jealous _he had been of the handsome, erudite man! Each Sunday he would come and whisk his giggling mother away, and there had been _nothing _poor, young Erik could do to stop him! That's when Erik had vowed that he would one day make them both pay… oh yes! That someday he would be wealthy and known throughout Europe as the most fantastical genius of the age. Then his mother, in her unhappy marriage with her bickering husband, would finally realize how wrong she had been! She would come knocking on his imported, mahogany door some beautiful _Sunday _morning… but oh, what a pity! One of his many servants would open the door and say, "Oh, we're very sorry, Madame. But Master Erik is not in; he has gone on an outing with his beautiful young wife…"

I sighed, the weight of reality descending upon my shoulders once more. For, even as a young boy, in the heat of the abuses and calamities I had suffered, I had held onto the irrepressible ability to hope, and to dream. Within my little home in Boscherville, I had been the master of my own fate, so long as I had the time and solitude to create it inside my head. But those days were long behind me, taking with them any hopes I had possessed of Sunday outings with a wife who did not simply tolerate me, but loved me in return. I could never again hope to expect that from any woman, much less Serena, as we both remained trapped in the snare of the Shah and his expectations, simply using one another for survival. Yes, I wanted her more than I had been willing to admit to myself, or to Nadir, as he had threatened me with keeping her safe.

_"I know that look, my friend… you best not be planning to seduce her simply because she is blind, intelligent, and beautiful!" _he had hissed at me the day prior as I watched her meander throughout the room soon after they had entered my quarters.

"_She reads… she is blind, and yet she reads, knows of the sciences, speaks so eloquently…" _I had replied stupidly, fascinated with the thought, "_Nadir, it is astounding. Is she musical, as well? What sort of household did she come from? I know it is very common for young French girls to be taught in the ways of music, languages, literature, history, housekeeping—" _

_ "She was orphaned very young, Erik. Apart from help from the people of her town, she learned all she knows on her own," _he had replied, recalling what she had told him on their way to the palace, "_but my friend, that is beside the point—" _

_ "Completely self-taught, independent despite her disability…" _I'd breathed, hardly hearing him while so lost in the new fascination across the room, "_she is perfect. And she will never find revulsion in _my _unfortunate defect—" _

_ "Erik, you cannot be serious!" _he'd exclaimed with a look of horror, "_What has happened to your self-possession? You will not touch her, so help me, unless—"_

But just then, Serena had chimed in with her question about the last woman chosen to be my wife. Inquired so innocently, so naively, so unaware of the danger she was in just be being present in this empire—

"Erik? Are you awake?" a small yawn breached the silence of the wing, followed by a few stumbling footsteps. I bit back a groan; she could not enter now, not when my corrupt reveries still rung so freshly in my mind—

"By God; you're exactly where I left you," a darling little chuckle rang out through the air, and a dainty hand perched itself on my shoulder, making me jump, "Oh! Forgive me… I didn't mean to startle you. You must not have heard me call out."

'_Oh, I heard alright. And I am only here, back where you left me, after lying with you all night. At your feet though, my dear! I would never dare degrade you in your excellence by placing myself beside you, at your level—' _

"Well… can I get you, anything? Breakfast, perhaps?" Her hand remained planted on my shoulder, and I could palpably feel my pulse beating mercilessly beneath it. Bless her soul, trying to make such cordial conversation with me. She had no idea, no notion…

"No, my dear… please don't trouble yourself," I told her, sighing and looking up. A terrible idea if I'd ever had one; she was smiling impeccably down at me with her beautiful eyes gleaming. She looked so cherubic, so innocent; yet my mind jumped instantly back to that sullying dream, when she had been the one staring up at me, her eyes shining with some very different sentiments as she _begged_ me to—

I cleared my throat and looked down again. It was going to be a long morning.

But the girl was persistent, and I soon found her pulling me up out of my chair. I was so positively dumbfounded by the bold action that I could do nothing but follow her as she chatted and led me away. "I will not have that; you need to eat! Where did you say your kitchen was…"

"Really, Mademoiselle, you must not—" I began, only to have her stop in her tracks, scowl, and cross her arms at me.

"Ah, ah, ah…" she began, raising an eyebrow, "What have I said about titles?"

"That we are to be friends, and therefore I am not to use them," I reiterated back to her like a timorously repentant child.

"That's right. Try again, with my name, please…" she smirked.

"Really, _Serena,_" I began again, still caught in astounded disbelief that she was acting so casually with me, "I have always been capable of caring for myself. You are my guest; I cannot have you waiting upon me."

"Well, _they _do not think I am your guest," she jabbed a thumb behind her, and though it of course did not point to anything relevant to her implication, I caught the suggestion nonetheless, "_they_ brought me here to become your wife. So that is exactly how I should act, to the best of my ability."

"They cannot see what goes on behind closed doors, Serena," I replied, cursing my own careless wording and my grotesque mind for jumping straight to the thought of what _normally _went on behind the closed doors of a husband and a wife in the form of that despicably gratifying dream!

"Nevertheless." I waited for her to continue the thought, but found that she had simply voiced it, then turned to begin feeling her way around the kitchen. I watched, captivated, as she heated the stove to its correct temperature, located a few of the pans I had stowed away, and took several ingredients off various shelves, smelling each of them and holding them back in my direction to confirm their contents: "Is this rosemary? Salt? Cloves?" To which I could just barely answer, not knowing what else to say when I felt so internally guilty.

She came across some of the raw meat I had placed in my prototype of an improved icebox I was experimenting with, and threw it into the pan without even questioning what sort of meat it was. "I have never come across any sort of meat that does not taste well with a bit of salt and spices," she chirped, laughing, "especially to start off one's day in a rich, hearty breakfast!"

"It is chicken, my dear," I told her, trying to keep my voice from breaking as her laugh made a desirous lump rise up into my throat. Her hands were so delicate, yet deft and sure; her long, elegant fingers wrapped around each of the vessels of food confidently. Making me, for the first time ever, burningly envious of the small, inanimate objects. I remembered instantly how those same little fingers had felt wrapped instead around my arm, and, later in the night…

…_curling and uncurling themselves in impassioned fists around the sheets of the bed as I made her my own—_

"Chicken?" I could hear the smile in her voice, though I dared not look up at her again, "So there are chickens around here, for slaughter and eggs?"

"Yes. Hundreds of vendors sell them both live and slain in the marketplace daily." Dear Lord; if my voice sounded even half as hoarse to her as it did to my own ears, it was a wonder she hadn't fled from the room yet, guessing my intentions. Goddammit, she was going to realize something was amiss if I continued to act so stiffly! I had to rid myself of these thoughts, act more naturally…

So, I took a deep, silent breath so as not to alert her of my attempt at suppressing my want, and forced a smile—though I knew she couldn't see it. Perhaps if I was able to convince myself that I was wholly comfortable, she would be thoroughly satisfied as well.

She finished seasoning the chicken and set it to broil, then hurried to the chair right across from mine and sat down, grinning eagerly. "Oh, that's perfect! I shall have to go out to said market in the next few days, stock that strange icebox of yours with eggs—"

"No." I interjected sternly. For I knew the marketplace was filled with prying eyes and, even worse, bandits of every sense of the word who would no doubt steal everything they could from such a lovely young thing as Serena—from her coin purse to her innocence. She looked taken aback by my harsh rejoinder, but then crossed her arms once more.

"Whyever not?" she interrogated, "Are you going to deny me discovery of my new surroundings? Of the liberty of running errands like any other woman?"

I could not help but frown as the words passed her lips. Did she truly just voice such a bold, presumptuous statement? How _dare_ she make such an accusation! I did not wish to deny her anything, I simply wanted to do my duty as her protector. "No, not at all," I replied tensely, "But you are naïve to the dangers of the atmosphere outside of royal grounds; the Tehran streets are quite… restless."

My mind leapt instantly to the last time tensions had seriously risen among the people of the Shah's kingdom… how long had it been, three years now? There had been a nationalistic minister to the Shah who had stirred in the people a longing for an abolition of the dynasty, and his king, in response, had not even given him a chance for repentance before throwing him into the ring with me for a painful execution. I had been especially disgusted with myself afterwards as I replayed the zealous man's martyring death over in my head: his vehemence in fighting—delighting the Khanum as she watched him hopelessly attempt to evade me. The spiteful words he shouted at me as I watched him, calmly as a lion waiting for the right moment to attack. But the worst and most impactful reminiscence was the despising look he got in his eyes as I robbed him of his life, simply for believing in a better future for Persia. They say that the fiery desire for the dynasty's end had died with him, but every once in a while I would come across a rally in the streets that often succeeded in making me sick to my stomach. I could not help but imagine each one of the cheering faces I passed trapped in the airless hold of the Punjab lasso, dying by my own hands for straying from tradition.

But Serena, I had to start remembering, was nearly as stubborn as I was.

"All the more reason I should be allowed out onto them. I must know what I'm up against, what I have to be afraid of!" she retorted swiftly, "Lest one day I find myself in need of ingredients and 'naively' wander out onto said streets without a single regard for the dangers which apparently lie in wait there!"

My frown turned into a pure, glaring scowl as she tried to rationalize with me. Who did she think she was? She had not even been here a full day; _what did she know?_ "You do not think you have anything to fear, you foolish girl?" I snapped, "I suppose you think the Shah harmless as well! Believe his mother to be a caring, benevolent woman who gives to the poor and treats all with kindness!"

"Not at all! I have felt for myself their fraudulent intentions and hidden malice. But how can anything out there be more hazardous than they?" she countered, brazenly raising a lovely little eyebrow.

Before I could stop myself, I stood with a snarl, slamming my fist on the table. "You guileless _child_!" I growled, advancing toward her so that I towered over her seated figure, "You think you would return unharmed if you left here alone? At least here you are protected by the menacing force of my reputation… _out there you would be knocked unconscious, if not killed, and robbed of all you hold most preciously within the hour!" _

A small gasp escaped her lips, and she shrank away from where I now stood not inches from her. But, though she would not glance up and was trembling slightly, she tautly continued, "I am no _child_, Erik. I'd say a few months in a _cage _on a strange boat far from my home, which I was brusquely _torn away from, _made certain of that."

I cried out in fury at her defiant words, and my hand was twitching forebodingly when one word echoed against my ears…

_Cage… _

My anger left me so quickly that it nearly knocked me into absolute breathlessness. "They… they kept you… _they kept you in a cage_?" I questioned in a tone just over a whisper, taking a few steps away from her as I realized in horror that I had almost lost control of myself yet again. Nearly _hurt _her when she had only been curious about a marketplace: something I'm sure had struck her as a somewhat familiar concept. Allah, I truly _was_ the spawn of the devil.

Serena bit her lip, wringing her hands in her lap as she struggled to regain her poise after her poor, flawless cheeks had paled at my rage. "Forgive me, it is of no matter. Forget I ever said anything; I promise I will never go off to the marketplace, or anywhere else for that matter, without your permission."

I wanted to kick myself, as I had obviously just kicked her with my words. I had promised her freedom, and yet not minutes into the very first day of our time together, I had whipped her into subservience with a single moment of destructive ire. I groaned in self-loathing. "Christ, just look at me! I have already made you feel as if you are answerable to me… Serena, can you ever forgive me? Please excuse poor, unhappy Erik… he has such a _damnable_ temper, you see, he did not mean to frighten you…" _She is never going to be your consort, Erik, so you best not be treating her as such in any way, shape, or form!_ _You are answerable to _her_… not she to you! _

Serena's head gradually rose, and, to my awed surprise, she reached out to me, taking my hand when I stepped toward her again. "It's alright, Erik. You did frighten me, but now that I've had a moment to think… I've realized that it was only out of concern for my wellbeing that you, well… got angry, to say the least—whatever's out there must be truly precarious if you reacted so strongly against it."

I wanted to die. I did not deserve such unprecedented mercy from such an amiable, practical creature. '_Oh Serena…' _

"You… you forgive Erik? How could you, when he nearly hurt you again?" I whimpered, sinking back into my chair once more.

"Because he is proceeding with such remorse now that I know he didn't mean it. And while he needs to learn to _control his temper… _it was nothing but a small lapse in behavior that is actually quite easily forgiven… if he should only let me offer a compromise in return," she answered with regained tranquility, squeezing my hand firmly as she emphasized the phrase about my temper.

I didn't know what to do with myself, then, as I listened to her tolerant words. She had to be mad. I had lost dominion over my frustrations not once, but _twice_, in her presence and then proceeded to take them out on her, and yet she had still forgiven me. How does one such as I react to such unwarranted kindness?

"What might that compromise be, my dear?" I choked out, renewing my internal vow that I would try tirelessly to do as she bid me and learn to control my temper.

"Perhaps you will _escort _me to the market every now and again," she told me with a slight smile, "Then, you can still protect me should any thieves be lurking, but I still get a taste of this new culture, as well as the opportunity to stock your cupboards with the things I need to make substantial meals."

"Oh yes, of course. Of course… I'd be happy to… of course," I stammered self-consciously, feeling even more exposed and helpless than I had when she had made me take off my mask. She was being the bigger person with her discernment and sympathy; seeming so big, in fact, that it was her towering over _me _as I flinched now, not the converse.

"Good. Now… I'm going to get up and finish your breakfast, and make some for myself as well as some tea for both of us," she continued with another smile, standing up with one hand on my shoulder almost as if she were patronizingly patting it like she would a small boy. It was an action that would have irritated me immensely, had it been anyone else. But no, it was the beautiful Miss Serena Ryen who was talking down to me, and I found myself almost contented with being babied. Then again, I could not be entirely satisfied with it; I must admit that it still did irk me and my unconquerable pride the slightest bit.

She set back to work, and while I waited, I got up to retrieve my mask from its resting place on the hook. I could not put it back on just yet, if I was to eat without making a mess of myself. But I best have it close for when I did finish the meal she was preparing, so I could be almost entirely ready to leave for the day at its culmination. Oh damn, that was another issue at hand. What was I to do with her while I was gone? I would never dare leave her with the Shah's guards, who had a dreadful reputation preceding them of their treatment towards the women of the harem. Damn, damn, _damn; _I would have to ask for the day off, or perhaps even a few days' leave… I had to have a solid plan in place before I left her alone anywhere. As if I wasn't behind enough on schedule as it was…

I returned to the kitchen and sat back down just as Serena placed a plate of seasoned chicken in front of me. It looked and smelled delicious, yet I hesitated, shamefully… for not only had my concern made me lose some of my appetite, but how good could a meal made by a blind girl truly taste?

"Is something the matter?" she asked, wiping her hands on her skirt and making me quite suddenly and intensely aware that she had not yet changed out of her thin, skimpy nightclothes…

"N-nothing at all. I only… my appetite is… this looks absolutely delectable, but…" I faltered, unable to find a credible excuse in the sudden wave of slow-wittedness brought on by the sight of her in the light once again in that _seductively_ tight clothing…

She was quiet for a moment, but then her face twitched with amusement, and her jaw dropped in feigned offense. "You think it's going to be positively dreadful, because I made it sightlessly," she reproached, though she was obviously biting back laughter.

I colored, shaking my head, "No, that is not it at all!"

"You don't believe that a blind woman could possibly be able to cook," persisted, putting her hands on her hips. Oh God, girl, not now, don't stand in such a way…

I began to protest once again, but she simply stared at me and drummed her fingers until I hung my head and said, "Alright, I'll admit I have my doubts. I just… I suppose I don't see how it is possible to be able to tell if, shall we say, meat is undercooked or thoroughly prepared if you cannot check its coloring to tell."

Serena chuckled, then, and turned around to put the kettle she had prepared on the stove. For a moment I was afraid I had offended her, as she wasn't even attempting to defend herself, but then she stated, "My dear Monsieur Erik… you forget that I was not blinded yesterday. This is something I have dealt with my entire life. Since birth I have been raised to deem things good or not using my other, working senses, as opposed to what everyone else bases their judgments on—their surfaces. So while I cannot _see _whether or not the chicken is still pink, have indeed learned a few tricks to checking its doneness in my years…" she glanced back at me, her eyes twinkling with mirth, and took my hand, suddenly, guiding my middle finger and my thumb together, "Now press," she ordered, and I obeyed her instantly, though it was not my long, skeletal fingers my now wide, awed eyes were staring at.

She smirked, then pressed softly down at the area of flesh at the base of my thumb, "Feel how that tenses, becomes firmer with the pressure? That is about the firmness of a piece of meat when it is nearly finished cooking."

I was trying to listen as carefully as I could, but I found that rather difficult as her fingers grazed and entwined with my own. Her hand was so much smaller than mine, yet, I could not help noting, all the better for perfectly fitting right inside my long, gangly grasp.

"You may test it with your breakfast if you still do not believe me," she finished, pulling her hands away and returning to the stove, "But I thought you of all people would understand other methods judging things enough to give a poor, blind girl's chicken a chance."

She had hardly even finished the last word before I had picked up the knife and fork she had laid out for me and began cutting up the meat.

I heard her giggle softly as the knife scraped audibly against the plate, and I could feel my face growing hotter and hotter with each word she uttered. She had succeeded in thoroughly humbling me with her monologue, and I quickly found as I raised the fork to my lips that she had had perfectly good reason. The chicken was flavorful and juicy, cooked all the way to its center. The seasonings danced across my tongue in impeccably balanced bursts, and it was warm, but not scalding hot. I found myself shivering in pleasure as I swallowed and prepared myself for the next bite. "This… this really _is_ delicious, Serena."

"I'm glad you like it. Eat up, I'm certain you have a busy day ahead of you," she winked, taking the kettle off the stove and adding tea leaves before placing a warm cup of the infusion in front of me as well.

"As you wish, Mademoiselle," I replied with a smile. I surprised myself, with such a jovial expression… here I sat, eating and drinking with my _mask off_, talking to a woman who neither screamed nor cried as we conversed. It was a little piece of heaven, this moment, and I found that while it had startled me, I was not at all averse to it… I was searching not for faults, as I did in many other moments in my life—I was simply _enjoying _it, for once. So I continued to smile, munching on the chicken and sipping at the tea my new companion had so generously made for me as she hummed softly from across the room.

_Could this be what having a wife felt like? _

It was such a foolish little thought… but once it had crossed my mind, it wouldn't leave me in peace. _Casual, drowsy morning talk passes between us as she prepares me a hot breakfast… I say something foolish, causing her to laugh merrily at my expense—but how could I be grumblingly goaded? She was too beautiful, too contagiously cheery, to be cross with for long. She finished her platter and comes to sit across from me—no, perhaps she parades over and sits on my lap, her bare leg cascading lazily out of the slit in her skirt as her lips part in a brilliant smile…_

A very foolish thought indeed… but unfortunately not as inconsequential as I would have preferred.

There was a knock at the door as we sat there, but before I could get up, Serena had put her hand back on my shoulder and said, "You sit and finish. I'll get it; I know where the door is now."

"You haven't even eaten yet; let me handle it," I responded, attempting to stand anyway. But by God… for such a petite woman, she had quite a strong grip!

"I insist. If you are to get out the door on time this morning, you have to finish your breakfast promptly!" she terminated, stroking my cheek and settling the argument right there as I practically choked on my mouthful of chicken. I was so unused to such relaxed, gentle gestures… they had not ceased to stun me with their sweetness and I doubted they ever would.

_Her elegant hands running up my gaunt chest… making my skin boil with the hot, lingering trails they left behind—_

Well merde! She was not going to make this easy on me, was she?

I had to bite back something that could be described in no way other than the lovechild of an amused chuckle and a tormented groan as I watched her exit the kitchen, her hips swinging with unconscious allure as she went. Was she doing all of this on purpose? Acting as a wife would with soft touches, playful nagging, and generous warm-heartedness… to please me and stay alive? Or perhaps she was genuinely trying to impress me… perhaps somehow, she _wanted _to marry me, for me to—

Oh, as if. Erik, you are an _utterly _hopeless romantic if that's the best excuse you can come up with for taking her. She is merely a sympathetic woman who is not allowing herself to be dispirited by her current, perilous situation. '_Accept it as that much, forget that wretched dream, and eat your breakfast like a good little corpse—'_

"Oh! Hello, Nadir; it is so nice to see you again!" Serena chirped from the foyer, "Erik, Nadir has come to visit us! Oh, and he brought a friend!"

_Greeting our guests at the door with that lovely smile of hers, just as all good married hostesses do…_

"Same to you, Mademoiselle Serena. I only wish this visit were as blithe as you think it to be—_oh, Darius, compose yourself! I know she is very beautiful, but you must hide your admiration better than that_," Nadir answered courteously, switching from French to Persian halfway through as he addressed his man.

At that, my head snapped up. _Hide his admiration? _I tied my mask back on with the swiftness of a hummingbird's heartbeat and had stormed out to where the three stood within seconds. Darius was a fine man, albeit very quiet and reserved: a loyal servant to Nadir who had never given me much trouble despite his obvious fear of me. Well, until now, that is! Serena was not his to admire; I would not stand for his gawking at her like some child at a fireworks display!

"Ah, here's Erik," Serena said with a smile as I approached, reaching out in my general direction though her eyes gazed past me. I eagerly held out my arm and let hers slither into place around it, shooting a glare towards Darius, who immediately dropped his head in apprehending submission.

Nadir raised an eyebrow, but then shot a small nod my way. "Good day, my friend. I hope you both have had a _restful_ night," he gave me a look filled with implications I more than understood; I knew Serena would be unable to catch the hidden question there but I certainly had and scowled in response.

"Actually, I was up through much of the night working on drafts, designs, and blueprints. But you are more than welcome to ask _Serena_ if she had a more successful night's rest," I answered curtly.

Nadir rolled his eyes. "You never have been a morning person, Erik. Indeed, Serena… how did you sleep?"

"Better than I have in months, thank you for asking," Serena responded with another smile, making my mind flash to what she had mentioned before about being _caged _on her journey here. I would have to give the Shah a firm _talking to _about that… perhaps get the names of the loathsome men who had retrieved her and introduce them to my hall of mirrors…

"I'm very glad to hear it," Nadir smiled back at her, but then he turned to me, his face darkened almost instantly, "_Erik, I come with bad news." _

I also chose to reply in Persian, since he obviously had something to say he did not want Serena to hear, "_Isn't it a bit early for bad news, Daroga? I had not even finished my breakfast before you came barging in with your man." _I sent another blazing glance Darius's way, though in truth I did not understand why I was reacting so harshly towards him. Could I blame him for ogling such a strangely beauteous, glowing creature as my new European companion? Even if she was just that, _my _companion… _my_ responsibility, _my_ intended…

"_Oh, quit terrifying Darius. He meant no harm. Besides, you have more important things to worry about," _the urgency in Nadir's voice was evident, now, and I snapped into my more impersonal persona, looking at him seriously.

"_What is it that is so wrong?"_

"_Well, first off, I did not come here on my own accord. The Khanum sent me, and waits for my return as we speak." _

My eyes narrowed. The Khanum? What could that blasted woman want so early in the morning? Surely—

But then my eyes fell upon the very perplexed woman on my arm—the perplexed woman who had been sent here to become my consort, and later my wife. "_Merde," _I hissed.

**A/N:**** And there you are, the first true cliffhanger of this fic. But it will not be the last, my dear friends—I am notorious for writing them! **

**But instead of focusing on what is to come, why don't we discuss what you have just read? Such as… **

**What did you think of Erik's point of view this time? (To clear up any confusion… that brief switch from first to third person was intentional, to emphasize Erik's insecurity and attempt at distancing himself from… well… himself, as well as his past.)**

**His naughty dream, his struggle with trying to forget it? **

**The dilemma of the blind girl's chicken? You all can thank Miss FantomPhan33 for getting them to hold hands at that point… we were discussing how a blind girl would cook a man breakfast, and she sent me a lovely video explaining that thumb trick!**

**And what about poor ol' Darius? I didn't introduce him as much as I probably should have, but it will not be the last time he makes a cameo in the plot. :) And speaking of cameos, a real historical figure made a brief, blink-and-you'll-miss-it appearance in this chapter! The rebel minister Erik recalls executing is named Amir Kabir—he was Chief Minister during the reign of Naser al-Din Shah Qajar (the man who would have been Shah of Persia in the time period that Kay writes Erik dropping in) and wished to modernize and democratize Persia using his astute knowledge of politics. The king opposed him, however, and had him exiled and later put to death. Peculiar how it was never recorded **_**how **_**he was put to death… too peculiar for a young author to pass up. **

**Song of the week: "Pale" by Within Temptation. Beautiful, beautiful, BEAUTIFUL song, and has Erik's name written all over it. **

**The question of the week is: What is one of your biggest pet peeves? Since Erik's—being told he is wrong when he knows in fact he is right—is briefly displayed in this chapter. ;D Please drop me some reviews, my lovelies… feedback is so greatly appreciated that I don't even know if I can properly put my gratitude into words! Have a wonderful week! ~DonJuana**


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N:**** A huge thank you to blushed-at-a-mere-nothing for her help and suggestions with some of the events in this chapter: she's amazing, people. Show the love. :)**

"_Merde is right. She believes that Serena is too meek for you to have actually taken a liking to, or so she says. Personally…" _Nadir said, clearing his throat. His eyes darted around nervously as if the walls had ears, something he always did before expressing a political opinion contrary to that which he was _told_ he believed, "_I think she is jealous. She is fascinated—obsessed, really—with you, Erik, and I do not think she was at all pleased when she found out that her son had sent for a wife for you—"_

"Oh dear… I heard my name in there. Am I in trouble, Nadir?" Serena piped up suddenly, an amused smile gracing her cheeks, though seriousness rung out in her voice as palpably as a church bell.

"Oh no, my dear, not at all! Don't you worry… I just have to discuss something with Erik, here," Nadir replied surprisingly lightheartedly, before immediately turning back to me, "_Anyway, it would seem she doesn't believe that you two… consummated, last night. She sent me to check on you, though I doubt she'll believe what I say considering she knows very well of our friendship." _

I grew quiet. This was exactly what I had been afraid of, and I had been so damn _muddled _by that blasted perfume last night that I hadn't managed to come up with a solution! I hoped that snake of a queen burned in hell for trying to control every aspect of my life—for trying to control _me! _Oh, she would pay… _she would see what happened to those who trifled with the Angel of Doom! _

"Please permit me the small allowance of comprehension, since so many of my other freedoms have been stripped of me as of late," Serena cut in, her voice cool and collected but obviously frustrated with her inability to understand our troubled conversation.

Darius gasped; his French was not perfect, but he understood enough to realize that she had just addressed me rather smartly, something he imagined to be a sin punishable by death. Nadir too seemed surprised by her audacity, but his shock contained more amusement than it probably should have, considering he was already my closest compeer, and didn't fear me as much as he used to. I sighed. "Serena, this is really not the most pleasant conversation to translate for you."

"So I am to be kept helplessly in the dark? Come now, Erik, perhaps I can assist! Or will I have to beg Nadir's kind servant to translate for me…" she then put out her free hand towards Darius, with a smirk on her face that made every muscle in my body tense. The boy's eyes, in turn, were the size of moons as she reached for him. Whether this was from pure awe, or mortified timidity, I did not know—nor did I give the slightest damn! _She would not touch him… would not smirk at him in such a coy little way! _

He had not a moment to even _consider_ taking her outstretched hand before I glared at him so acerbically that he rapidly shied away from her like a kicked dog, lowering his head as much as seemed anatomically possible. But I would not break my ardent gaze; if he so much as _glanced _at her again I would snap his scrawny neck—

"_Erik… Erik! Please refrain!" _Nadir barked, noticing my severity and glaring at me, "_I understand if you feel some possessiveness for the girl, but Darius is my attendant and friend and I will not have you treating him so shoddily for but looking at her twice!"_

_ "Possessiveness? What do you mean by that?" _I growled defensively.

"Erik… you're… you're holding awfully tight…" Serena said suddenly, a small frown creeping onto her face as she gently placed her hand atop mine…

…a hand that was closed around her arm in a quintessential picture of the exact possessiveness Nadir had just described. Mon dieu, what was wrong with me? I detached myself immediately with a disgraced blush, and took my turn in lowering my head.

Nadir sighed, his face an amalgam of a hundred different, conflicting sentiments. "_I think you know exactly what I mean," _he began, shaking his head, "_but that is beside the point. Why don't we focus on the fact that the Khanum demands proof of your pleasure with her gift this very morning, and will no doubt be here in a heartbeat if I do not return to her soon?" _

I bit my lip, glancing concernedly at Serena. She seemed to sense my panic, for she touched one of her hands to my masked cheek, and the other to Nadir's shoulder. "Please tell me what's going on," she whispered pleadingly, fear flashing over her pretty face.

I sighed, unable to dodge her questions any longer… especially when she asked me like _that._ "The Khanum doesn't believe that I bedded you last night," I told her tersely, "and if she doesn't believe that I enjoyed her gift in what she sees as the proper way, we could be in a world of trouble."

Serena was silent. Her brow creased in thought and—what I assumed was—fear, and my heart sank at her distrust. Did she really think me so barbaric that I would break my promise to her in a fretful instant to save my own hide? I would sooner die than force myself upon _any _woman, much less someone pure as she—

"Nadir, take your man and return to the Khanum with him as your witness; you have indeed checked in on us, and I can… hardly stand," she rolled her pale eyes, which quivered lazily as a result of the action, "but that we will come in just a few moments time to visit with her."

"Serena, my dear Mademoiselle… I don't think you understand—" Nadir protested, feigning as much of a smile as he could muster in his dread. But Serena cut him off, unruffled as a gladiator who knew he was engaged in a winning battle.

"I understand perfectly. She wants physical proof that Erik made love to me last night. Well, I have an idea. But the more time you waste here, the less likely it becomes that it will work. Go."

Nadir stared at her, then glanced at me uncertainly, then looked back to her. "Serena, perhaps you should explain your proposal first, before we make any hasty decisions—"

"Nadir, just trust me," she commanded gently, taking his hands and patting them lightly as she turned fully towards him, "It is nothing terribly reckless, but I think it will work if you'll only put your faith in me."

And then, to my flabbergasted surprise, the hesitant old coot nodded. She was just too persuasive for her own good, it would seem! "Alright," he exhaled audibly, "I do hope you realize what a dangerous game you're playing at, my dear; but nevertheless, I will leave it in your capable hands. _Come, Darius._" And, with one last glance my way that seemed to scream, '_Don't do anything exceptionally stupid.', _he was gone.

I was in the process of trying to figure out what this masterful plan could possibly be when she spun back around to face me, taking my hands. "Now Erik," she began slowly, her tone grave but still entirely in control of the situation, "I am about to ask something rather… bold of you."

I began to sweat beneath my mask, my pulse racing. She had better hurry up and finish her statement before my wild imagination took control of me and I decided for myself how it would culminate. "Alright… what is this idea of yours, my dear?" I managed.

"Well, obviously the Khanum wants some sort of physical proof that I pleased you intimately last night," she continued, and I could not help but feel that her sightless eyes were somehow seeing right through me as they stared past my fidgeting, agitated silhouette.

"That is a correct statement," I blurted stupidly, clearing my throat.

She smiled then, seeming to sense my blatant discomfort and wishing to soothe me. Oh, if only she knew how far from _innocent _that discomfort was…

"Indeed. So, in order to appease her, you are going to kiss me on the neck for a few minutes, perhaps leaving a few evident love-bites," she explained, and my jaw dropped for more reasons than one—the first and foremost motive being the nonchalance with which she spoke of this exploit, "that way, when we walk in slightly disheveled and thoroughly inflamed from kisses, she will have her physical proof and I will not have to surrender any more of my dignity for her to check any lower than my shoulders. What do you think?"

What did I think… _what did I think? _

The gentleman in Erik flat out objected to this notion in every way, shape, and form. He could never so immodestly manipulate a woman… much less for show! It was wrong on so many levels… he did not deserve to touch her creamy, unadulterated skin with his withered, beastly mouth!

But chivalrous Erik's cries of protest were going unheard beneath the deafening pounding of my heart. Oh, how much I wanted to say yes… to catch even the briefest, sweetest taste of love… to taste _her_, hold her, _kiss _her…

Then she reached up and delicately tugged off my mask, her face crumbling in concern at my silence. '_Concern for me!' _I thought, deliriously thrilled.

"Erik? You're very quiet…" she stated nervously, turning away only to place my mask on the hook.

'_Oh, my poor girl… I am quiet because thoughts of my midnight reverie have returned with the presentation of your suggestion! Thoughts of you, Serena, cradled beneath me… and I know if I speak now they'll all come spewing out, scaring you away for good!' _

"Erik, please," she whispered, her voice quavering as all the bravery in her tone left her in a single, defenseless instant, "I know this isn't the most ideal solution for either of us, but I… I'm so frightened."

And that vulnerability… those big, icy-blue eyes filled with the apprehension of a fearful maiden in need of her protector… it was the final straw that broke the camel's back—or, in this case, the Living Corpse's self-restraint.

I swept her into my arms, pulling her tiny body to mine as I craned my long, bony neck down and—lightly and timidly as a moth's microscopic feet as it lands on a leaf—pressed my lips to the corner of her jaw.

But no sooner had I made contact was I on fire once more.

The scent of the oils still lingered closely on her skin from the previous night, causing my head to spin and my grip on her to tighten. The cautious kiss I had initially planted almost immediately intensified; I had never felt such warmth and softness as I did kissing her pale skin. Perhaps it was my own cold, dead membrane making me forget what true human skin felt like, or perhaps it was the fact that she was a forbidden pleasure of sorts. But her neckline swiftly became my Garden of Eden as I moved my lips downward, trying to savor each moment I had in discovering its supple bounty.

Suddenly, my mouth passed her jugular vein, and I felt the flutter of her pulse… it was beating as quickly as mine was; we were almost entirely in sync. And just as this revelation was making itself known to me, she slowly reached up to wrap her arms around my neck, tilting her head back so as to give me easier access to her.

With that, the beast was released.

I ascended down to kiss every inch of skin I could reach, taking special care to gently adore the bruises I had left yesterday. And once I had moved on from that, I grew bolder, opening my mouth and tasting her for the first time.

_Oh, what sweet torture… what fresh, blissful _hell! The feeling of her skin upon my lips… my _tongue_… was better than any book could have described, better than even my erotic dream, and the electrifying sensations running through me were both the most pleasurable and terrifying things I had ever experienced. Yet I'd be _damned _if I ever willed them to stop. Yes… as soon as I had sampled them I wanted more, more of her… _all _of her! My starving curiosity replayed countless scenes from my nighttime vision, taunting me with the desire to know if the rest would be just as divine…

And then, I couldn't help myself; I began to nip at her jaw, her collarbone— following the curves of her neck with the grazing of my teeth. She just tasted _so sweet…_ the gasps she emitted as I did were just too intoxicatingly delightful… and Christ Almighty, _did I want to experience more_…

But several minutes later, as I pulled away for but a moment to catch my breath, I opened my eyes and saw the rainbow of reds, purples, and blues I had created as I… explored…

And I jumped several feet away from her in absolute horror. "Oh G-God…" I moaned, unable to take my eyes away from the damage I had just done her. "Oh Serena, forgive me! I am such an uncouth fiend!" Damn you, Erik… in everything you do, you lose your head and get carried away! _Damn you! _

Serena was left swaying in imbalance from the abruptness with which I had separated myself from her, her eyelids fluttering hazily as she refocused her attentions. "Wh… o-oh! Erik, please don't fret! I'm right as rain… this is purely a part of our plan, remember?" she gestured up to the swelled love-bites, smiling with her standard, assuring grace.

The plan… oh yes. My cognizance returned to me in an abrupt, devastating rush, reminding me that I had been so passionately caressing her only because she was scared for her life, not because she had really, truly wanted me to. Oh, The Lord above just loved to taunt me, didn't He! This was His cruelest trick to date, allowing me such a celestial endowment for but a passing moment in time before tearing it from my grasp once more. Permitting me the pleasures every other man took for granted as part of his daily life, before reality came crashing down upon me, reminding me snidely that I was undeserving— more monster than man. But I could not punish Serena for His cruelty… for my own inadequacy. She had been such a good girl, not even wincing as my cold, dry, shabby excuse for a mouth had kissed her perfect skin… even now, she smiled at me! Oh, she was too kind, too generous for poor, _wretched_ Erik…

"I didn't… didn't hurt you?" I mumbled pathetically, refusing to step any closer to her. For I feared that, if I did, the selfish brute within me would simply pick up where he had left off…

"No, not at all," she answered, stepping towards me and taking my arm. Damn it; why did she have to be so beautiful? To be so beautiful and so temptingly close… yet so utterly untouchable. "Though I imagine by your horrified reaction that you've fulfilled your end of the bargain," she continued, chuckling softly.

'_That's for damn sure,' _I thought, my stomach churning in self-loathing as I stared at the blood vessels I had burst, the bruises I had enhanced, the welts I had created… and all so carelessly as a rebel who defaces an ancient, holy sanctuary in a moment of animalistic mindlessness. "Yes," I croaked, looking away, "I'd say that should do it."

"Good. I trust your judgment. Well, let's get moving then, shall we? Time is of the essence, now," she remarked, seeming to read my thoughts—or, the few sensible ones I had left—and handing me my mask as she pulled me towards the door.

"Let's," I agreed with a deep breath before following her. God, I _had_ to rid myself of this paralyzing shock so that I might be able to face the Khanum head on, unruffled, and at my best. If I was to convince the sadistic woman of my satisfaction, if I was to save Serena's neck, I had to pretend like those last few minutes spent encountering it had _not_ been the single most astounding ones of my entire life. Had to stop trembling like I had seen the face of God, even if I felt I had, and would now never be the same—

_'Enough! Stop acting like a blushing schoolboy and get ahold of yourself.'_ Take after Serena, who walks completely unaffected beside you. Oh, but of course _she _was unaffected… she probably had a suitor back home she had been whisked away from, for God's sake! She, the endearing little beauty, had probably pretended I was he, to keep herself from gagging or shuddering away in revulsion as I kissed her so ardently. Oh, damn him, whoever he may be—he and his perfectly formed face and body, he and _the place he held in her loving favor! _

No, damn _you, _Erik! Stay focused on the matter at hand! Acquire her strength; pretend that her wrapping her arms around you had meant absolutely nothing, even if it kills you to suppress such…

We walked in swift silence to the throne room, though I was so lost in internal deliberation that I hardly realized it when we arrived. It was only when the doors instantaneously swung open before us as we approached that I came plummeting back to the real world and the fact that the Khanum was obviously waiting for us. I couldn't help but snort quietly to myself; I was agog she had not grown impatient at the length of time it was taking us to arrive and stormed directly into my bedroom, crying folly—

"_Ah, there's my prized magician!" _she cooed with disgustingly sweet mendacity from her perch atop her place of honor. The sight of her authoritative personage—her stout, neckless, jewel-encrusted personage—chased away any wavering feelings that remained within me as a result of my intimate display; I was the cold, punitive Angel of Doom once more.

"_Madame Khanum_," I replied callously in Persian.

Her beady eyes flickered to Serena, whose face was now etched deeply with apprehension. "_And you brought your little gift, too..." _she continued with a sneer.

I grimaced to let her know my irritation at having been dragged here. "_Yes; upon your request, if I remember correctly. Now, can you please tell me what it is you want from us so that we may continue on with our morning?" _

"_'We'? You refer to her and yourself as a single unit already?" _she smirked, though I could see the vexation in her eyes. I had no doubts whatsoever that she had been hoping for another virgin's execution to witness, the viper!

"_Certainly. She… she was a very pleasing gift. And she _is_ all mine, yes?" _I affirmed intensely, trying to convey my internal forewarning between our locked gazes: "Neither you nor your men—your _son _most notably—will lay a single finger upon her."

"_If she truly was pleasing to you. I'll admit I did not think that you would take to such a meek little thing," _the Khanum responded doubtfully.

"_Well, if I may be so bold, my lady, you were _quite _wrong," _I retorted coolly, "_and you may see for yourself if you do not believe me. For I certainly… left my mark." _

Her gaze flicked back to Serena, glancing up and down her petite frame. "_Send her over to me," _she commanded suddenly, gesturing to us with a flick of her plump wrist. I took a deep breath so as to keep myself calm, then turned to Serena, speaking softly to her in our native French.

"She wants to see you up close. But I'll be right there beside you, alright?" I explained, though I put a hand on her back and began guiding her in the direction of the throne so that the Khanum did not realize that I was so carefully instructing her on what to do—

"_Don't coddle her like an infant, Erik," _the Khanum snorted, rolling her eyes and grinning wolfishly, "_Let her stumble to me all by herself." _

I tensed, nearly turning about face to retaliate with harsh resistance to her heartless request, but I caught myself at the last second, exhaling and nodding slowly. "_As you wish," _I succeeded in spitting out. I then stepped away from Serena, guilt panging in my gut as confusion and terror washed over her features. "Just take a few steps forward, my dear," I muttered, throwing my voice tactfully so that the instruction echoed right in her ear. This only seemed to disorient her further, but to my relief, she did as I bid her and began to wander forward as I silently willed she not trip when she reached the raised area on which the Khanum sat. But she managed on her own just fine, dragging her feet across the floor in her usual, graceful way so as to ensure she did not lose her footing.

She knelt down when she reached the Khanum's feet, visible shaking but lowering her head respectfully. I could not help but stiffen further as the Khanum reached down and jerked her head back up, keeping a tight hold on her chin as she twisted her jaw back and forth slowly, inspecting her like a horse. How _dare _she handle poor Serena so roughly; I didn't care if she was one of the most influential sovereigns in Persia! _She had no right to treat such a morally, intellectually, and, dare I say it, physically superior woman in such an abusively insulting way! _

By the time she began to run her fingers over the bruises I had left a few moments prior, I was trembling as much as my companion was… but for very different reasons, I was certain. "_My…" _she began with a dark chuckle, her eyes remaining locked on the lovebites, "_it would seem you play rough, Erik. For the marks and discolorations to be this visible the morning after?" _she laughed fully and coldly, then, shaking her head as if impressed with such a horrifying notion.

Oh, how I wished to wrap my hands around her large neck and give her a taste of how "rough" I could be. But the dratted woman had too large of a protection unit in the room with her… the risk was too great when Serena's life was already so dangerously dancing in contention. So, utterly repulsed with myself, I put on a merciless, suggestive smirk, and said, "_Do you see her, Madame? I could not help myself." _

"_Of course I see her. But I do not think her any more beautiful than any of the women of my harem… and she, by comparison, is _much _less learned in the ways of intimate pleasures," _the Khanum scowled abruptly, dropping her hold on Serena to cross her arms.

"_She is a product of my homeland. She has… certain effects on me that the others you offered me did not. Besides…" _I snorted, hating myself more and more with each innuendo I made, "_haven't you heard, Madame? The French are known for being exceptionally good lovers by nature." _

The Khanum laughed abrasively, then looked back down at Serena. "_Allah, she's turned as white as a ghost. She seems quite shaken." _

_ "You would be too, had you been in her place last night," _I replied swiftly but cheekily. Someone in the room gasped, but the Khanum simply looked up at me, grinning as she always did when I openly displayed my wit—in a way I could tell she meant to be alluring, but in actuality succeeded only in looking like a cat whose tail had been stepped on.

"_Such bold words, Erik," _she hissed, "_And surprising ones, too… I did not think you would waste your precious, prodigious time on a crippled child." _

That time, I could not refrain from taking a menacing step forward. It was I that was unworthy of Serena's time, her inerrant kindness… I would not stand for her merit to be so ruthlessly attacked! "_I will warn you, Madame Khanum, that your words are drifting treacherously close to crossing a line—"_

_ "And I will warn you, my masked menace, that I do not like your tone," _she snapped, shooting daggers at me with her gaze, "_You will remember your place here in this court, as I'm certain she will remember hers now that you have taught it to her." _

For a few breathless moments, the entire room was deathly silent. Neither my cruel employer nor I wanted to be the first to look away, to step down from the challenge we were presenting to one another. I could see and hear her guards readying their steel weapons out of the corner of my eyes, and quickly calculated how I could overpower each of them in the short amount of time it would take them to reach us. But I would not let them and their feeble, pathetic swords intimidate me into standing down. Oh no! For Erik was the _master _death; they would not get within five feet of him without their necks being snapped—

A tiny hand landed delicately on my shoulder, causing me to jolt right out of the trancelike state I'd fallen into. My head snapped over to see Serena standing by my side once more, her clouded blue eyes forlorn as she gently rubbed my upper arm. Then, wordlessly, she dropped to her knees before me and bowed in submission.

I couldn't believe my eyes. And from the expression on the Khanum's face, I knew she was just as aghast. Serena spoke not a word of Persian, yet she had _entirely _understood how quickly the situation had escalated. She had comprehended, thought quickly, and reacted in such a way that the tension in the room was immediately diffused—the subject of our heated debate had expressed her acquiescence in order to pacify both quarrelling parties. Mon dieu, how could this girl have only come from a small village in France? She had the political astuteness of Napoleon, for Christ's sake—

"_Well then… I'd say we're done here, as long as you keep that in mind. Dismissed. And, after rising so early to come here…" _the Khanum said slowly, addressing me despite her eyes being locked on Serena's crouched form with sick fascination. But then they suddenly darted back up to meet mine, and another smirk crept to life on her face. "_you will have plenty of time for one last round of that… 'irresistible roughness' you spoke so fondly of, before you leave to work on my son's palace," _she finished insouciantly.

I locked my jaw so that I did not fall into her trap of provocation. "_Yes, of course," _I answered curtly, "_Plenty. Good day." _

Nadir had appeared on my opposite side, and quickly hurried over to help Serena rise before beckoning us both toward the door. I could feel the panic radiating off his skin, and probably would have chuckled at his faint-heartedness had I not been so irritated.

The massive doors swung shut with a rush of air on the back of our necks, and as soon as they had I saw Serena's shoulders sag in mollification. My, she had been even more frightened than she had dared let on, hadn't she? '_Such strength,' _I could not help but think in admiration, '_this entire incidence of her being hauled here has acted as nothing but an unending test to her courage, and yet she has endured.' _

We ventured quickly back to my wing of the palace, not speaking a single word among the three of us in the weight of what could have been, had I not been able to wane my wrath. Nadir kept turning to me as if he had something to say, but I would simply pretend I had not noticed his disapproving expression and he would glance forward again. Serena was ashen, her dead eyes looking _truly _dead for the first time since I had met her, not even lazing not as they stared—frozen and stoic—ahead.

We entered back into the foyer of my wing, and I immediately began gravitating toward the piano. I needed my rock, my solace, my _music_… for I knew that once I was lost in the familiar embrace of the melodies of my mind, I would think not of the Khanum, or of my duties, or of those blissful moments when I had been lost in the arms of a _real _woman—

"Oh _G-God_!" a sudden sob penetrated the silence of the wing, and seconds later I found those arms once again around me as Serena collapsed into my embrace, burying her slender face in my chest. It took me several seconds after that initial shock to realize that she was once again touching me on her own accord… _willing _me to hold her in her frailty, even! I knew what little of my face that could be seen from behind the mask probably looked like one faced with the threatening crouch of a lion, instead of a woman, but it wasn't as if that mattered to _her! _I saw Nadir's brow arch in shock… but I didn't care. Right then, my only concern was the quaking girl pressed against me. All other deliberations, even my own awe, flew instantly from my mind.

"Hush, Serena, it's alright…" I muttered soothingly, in a voice I often used as a child to coax my raging mother into a pretense of security, "you're safe now. Your plan worked, my dear; please don't cry…"

"I… I thought something had gone wrong!" she choked, her fingers clenching around the fabric of my suit jacket wildly, "I thought we had failed… o-oh, all that shouting and sword-drawing and malice in the air!"

I bit my lip at her words, knowing I had been the sole cause of her terror… of her _tears, _goddammit. Each one that soaked into my shirt after that realization felt like being stuck with searing pins, piercing me with shame and remorse. Had I only been less stubborn… more mindful of how alarmed and perplexed she must have been! I had completely disregarded the fact that she did not understand a word of what was going on, and therefore knew not what to do past the vague instructions I had given her before entering the throne room. I had practically disregarded her _entirely _as I had bickered with the Khanum, and now had made her weep because of my thoughtless actions. I was absolutely chagrined, yet I still found the audacity to wraps my arms around her in a feeble attempt to comfort her.

"I know. I am so very sorry we frightened you so," I sighed, "but that's done with, now. The Khanum seemed to believe us, and should not require more verification for a while." That was more a wishful statement than a truth, but I didn't want to worry Serena even more than I already had when I would make _certain _in the futurethat I be sole adversary to the sultana's accusations. If anyone had to deal with the despicable monarch, it would be me and me alone, not this sweet, susceptible flower of a girl. She would never again have to turn to _me_ for comfort because she was so intensely petrified.

She shuddered at the Khanum's mention, burrowing further still into my eager embrace. "Oh, that woman! How could one singular being be so staggeringly cruel… the very air she breathed had the most unsettling aura!"

"I would have to agree," I murmured, reaching up with the timidity of a sparrow to stroke her long, auburn hair. The soft curls felt like silk against my withered fingertips, and I had to suppress a shudder of my own as I slowly ran my hand through them. If she had been send as an earthly punishment for my countless sins, if this marvelous closeness was meant to be hell… then the rewards waiting for those in heaven must be the unimaginably quintessential face of divinity after all.

"I've… I've never been so scared in my life, as I was during that encounter," she whispered quaveringly as I became increasingly aware of the sensation of her lips moving so close to my chest, "I thought I would be meeting my maker within the hour."

"While I am not at all flabbergasted that you had so little faith in me," I chuckled weakly, "I am quite surprised at your disbelief in yourself. Did you not trust the plan you so carefully formulated to carry you through to a secure end?"

She colored, pulling away. "Oh no, Erik, it was not you that I mistrusted! It was indeed myself; I _thought_ that a bit of physical evidence would satisfy her, but I _knew _for a fact that it had no chance of passing as authentic if I did not act the part of obedient consort well enough!" she told me, taking my hand gingerly. I did not believe a word of her speech—scoffed at it on the inside, even—but I could not bring myself to look her in the face and argue it. I forced a smile.

"Well, you acted it perfectly, my dear. You succeeded. You took a rather rash, dubious proposal and carried it out without a hitch, fooling one of the most dominant female monarchs in the world. Well done."

"Yes, quite! But your victory will not last for long unless Erik gets off to the building grounds and eliminates suspicion soon," Nadir cut in abruptly, putting a single hand on Serena's shoulder and turning her to him, "which means you, Mademoiselle, must get yourself settled here."

I scowled profusely at him as he guided her gently away from me, feeling the burning imprint of where her body had been while pressed against me like a white-hot brand. Part of me was dying to reach out and snatch her back from him, pulling her back to me, but I refrained for her sake. He caught my eye as he steered her into the adjacent room, narrowing his and dictating in terse Persian, "_We need to talk. Privately." _

Ah, no doubt he was as concerned as I about what was to become of Serena in the times I was away. I would have to tell him that I was planning to stay back today at least, and see if he had any useful advice to offer on how to keep her safe in the future. "_As you wish, Daroga," _I answered with a shrug.

He led her out and got her settled elsewhere, then returned to my side and immediately pointed out toward the hall from which we'd come. "_Perhaps we should take this outside, where she will not hear us," _he continued, looking me sternly in the eyes.

I was a bit taken aback by his formidable expression, and instantly became more than a bit on guard. "_She is in the other room. She will not." _

_ "I am not so sure. Come on." _

I crossed my arms and glared at him, refusing to take a single step. "_What is this about, Nadir?" _I snapped, very swiftly losing my patience, "_You think you can follow me into my own home, and then address me in this manner—"_

_ "How dare you debase such a sweet, innocent woman for the sake of a sham!" _he exploded suddenly, "_Allah, Erik… she trusted you! I thought you better than this!" _

I felt my body stiffen, becoming solid as marble. How dare_ Nadir _make such an accusation… immediately assuming me capable of such barbarity simply because of past actions I had long ago learned from… because I _looked _like such a monster, no doubt! And he called himself _my friend_… he, who was so quick to condemn me as a testosterone-driven animal with no self-control when it came to matters concerning a potential mate!

"_Excuse me?" _I growled, taking a step in his direction and lengthening my spine to its entire uprightness so that I towered at my full height above him, "_And be careful of your next few words of explanation, Daroga… they could potentially be your last." _

Nadir winced but did not back down, locking eyes with me boldly. "_How do you explain her neck, Erik?" _he asked curtly, "_Had it been paint or an illusion of any sort, the Khanum would have noticed." _

_ "I need not explain it!" _I roared in outrage, "_it was a plan orchestrated by the girl herself… I was merely following her instructions! And it worked, Nadir; no one is dead and she is safe!" _

_ "But is she? Is she truly?" _he barked suddenly, raising a critical eyebrow at me.

I nearly reached up and strangled him right then and there. In retrospect, I am immensely surprised that I didn't—such was the magnitude of my rage. "_Nadir, I suggest you leave my wing swiftly so as to get a decent head start in escaping what I am currently planning on doing to you—"_

_ "Allah above, Erik… what do you _expect _me to think, with the way you were talking in there? With the way she looked after I left the two of you alone for an extended period of time!" _he huffed, exasperated.

"_Was not last night an 'extended period of time'?" _I snarled irately, "_And yet I did not so much as _touch _her were it not necessary to her finding her way around! How little trust you have in me, Daroga… and how little _patience_ I have left with you!" _

"_But how quickly I'm certain you jumped at the chance to nip at her skin, to take advantage of her distressed predicament— don't think that I do not see how attracted you are to her, Erik!" _

My hands now felt as if they were stewing in boiling oil, in their unquenchable desire to obliterate. But somehow, knowing deep down how true his words rung, I managed to turn away from him and find myself a different target for my destruction. I slammed my fists down upon a nearby bookshelf, sending several novels flying across the room and toppling the entire thing over with a monumental clatter. "_Of course I'm attracted to her, you intolerable idiot!" _I was shouting now, my voice rattling all shelves and furniture that remained standing, "_What living, breathing man _wouldn't _be? But how _dare _you assume me so wicked that I would _ever_ envision myself as being worthy of her; unlike you, as you audaciously confront me, _I know my place in this cruel world! _She is queen of the ethereal here on earth, and I the prince of darkness! I would not touch her against her consent if I were being held at knifepoint!" _

Nadir was silent, staring at me with his hands poised slightly in front of himself in reaction to the fallen shelves. Oh, so now he feared me, eh? Perhaps he should have been the wiser a few seconds ago, when, without plausible witness—a questionable mistake, for the chief of police!— he denounced me as the most nefarious of villains, having committed one of the most heinous of crimes! _It wasn't true, it wasn't! _

…yet I knew it was. I had said so myself upon looking at what I had done to her. Once again, Nadir was simply acting as my conscious aloud and I was violently unwilling to listen to the truth so frankly spat out at me. I continued to glare, until the door to the parlor swung open and a panicked Serena appeared in the archway.

"Wh-what happened? I heard the most deafening crash!" she squeaked, both her head and her hands flitting about in her scrambling attempt to grasp the situation.

I had to hand it to Nadir; in his years as a respected official in such a corrupt governmental system, he had certainly learned how to regain his composure and hide his true opinions quickly. And here was no exception: he went over to her with a smile plastered on his face and took her searching hands, saying, "Our apologies for startling you, Serena! I was merely telling Erik what was to be expected of him from now on, when it came to you."

He was also, I couldn't help but note, quite good at fabricating vague stories that weren't completely false, but nowhere near the entire truth. It wasn't exactly a prodigious talent, as mine were, but I had to say I was quite grateful in this particular moment in time.

"Then what was that bang?" she questioned him, and seemed to look right at me though I knew she couldn't visualize my exact location. I suddenly wanted to slink out of the room like a shamed dog with its tail between its legs… _like my dear Sasha when she had been scolded…_

"Oh! Erik simply dropped a few books. I think I surprised him with some of the requirements of Persian courtship," Nadir replied smoothly, looking back at me and chuckling, "Right, Erik?"

I cleared my throat, trying to take the line he'd thrown me despite my having nearly torn his throat out not a minute ago. "Yes, indeed," I began, trying to coat my tone with impishness, "for, hear this, Serena… Nadir tells me that I, as your intended, am supposed to buy you gifts, and present them to you publicly when possible. The idea is so absurd that I dropped all I was holding… if I am to give my beloved fake-wife gifts, they will be ones I dexterously _made_, not insultingly bought!" I told her, and the thought was true despite Nadir's never having said it aloud. Favored concubines were often adorned with precious jewels and showered with valuable gifts in exchange for their services… but Serena was not just another beautiful woman. She was a _breathtaking _woman with a superior intelligence and a matchlessly large heart, and anything I gave her I would gladly slave over myself to perfect to be touched by her graceful, faultless hand. To see her smile as I placed into her eager hands something I had created especially for her… oh, what a divine thought! My false smile turned genuine as soon as I had imagined it.

And it was not difficult to envision now as she blushed an endearing scarlet. "Oh, you needn't make me anything!" she exclaimed self-consciously, "I can't have you troubling yourself over me when I know what a busy man you are—"

"Nonsense. It is custom, and if it is custom, I might as well make the things myself," I assured her with a smirk, "that is, after all, the only way I can know for certain that the finished products can be called suitable for my radiant fiancé."

Oh, how I _loved _making her blush! Bashful red was such a lovely color on her; it lit up each feature of her face in the most complimentary way. And the fact that phrases _I _had uttered had caused such a discernable physical corollary made it all the more delightful. If only I could take a moment to draw her, in such an appealing state…

"Alright, I won't even attempt to argue such flattery. But only if it pleases you, and only if it will not burden your precious time!" she retorted, her lips drawing up into a tiny pout at having lost the argument and causing my mouth to go dry. As if she could do _anything _but please me… she truly was perfection itself. She needn't try to prove it with such a delectable little scowl!

Nadir shook his head in amusement. "You are truly the most stubborn man I have ever met, Erik," he chuckled, though when he looked up at me, there were more tacit caveats hidden in his gaze.

"Apart from yourself, Daroga," I responded with a similar look.

And, to my relief, our wordless conversation seemed to have convinced him. "And on that note, I believe it is time that I take my leave," he said as he turned to go, bowing to Serena, "Have a wonderful rest of your day, my dear. And Erik…" he looked me in the eye, taking on the temperament of a nagging mother, "Palace. Soon."

"Actually, I will not be going today," I started casually, picking up a few of the books I had thrown in my ire and setting them on an _upright _table.

The benevolent Persian's eyes nearly bugged out of his head. "What?" he stammered.

"I will not just leave Serena here on her own," I said with sudden resoluteness, "you of all people should know how unwise that would be."

"More unwise than disobeying the Shah?" Nadir bellowed, flummoxed.

"Yes… please, Erik!" Serena spoke up pleadingly, "I don't want you to get into any trouble when you have just so narrowly escaped it. I'll be fine on my own, I am quite self-sufficient!"

"It is not you I am worried about, Serena," I told her gruffly, "therefore, your staying here in solitude is out of the question. It should only be a few days before I find better arrangements, but, in the meantime, my men will have to make do without me."

"Erik, you are _head architect_!" Nadir cried out, waving his arms rather ridiculously to emphasize his words.

I rolled my eyes, but spoke again instantly as I saw Serena open her mouth to protest. "Yes, and always have been the first to arrive in the morning and the last to leave at night. I have worked far too many hours over-time to not have earned a few days' respite in return."

Nadir sighed, rubbing his temple. He'd never gotten migraines before I came along, he always told me! I smirked at the memory, and at his nervous, sweating face. "Fine. I suppose that is an arguable point. Shall I send out a messenger for you?" he asked.

"Just to the worksite, if you'd be so kind. Tell them that their master has been presented with the most esteemed gift the Shah can give a man, and that I am taking a few days off to… _enjoy _it," I replied, knowing that the workers would know exactly the meaning of my words and feeling supremely disgusted with myself for having articulated them.

Nadir just stared at me. "No word to the Shah?"

"Of course not. My absence is hardly his concern, considering he gave me full reign on all happenings of the worksite," I snorted impatiently, "and if he should attempt to retract that claim on the grounds of my taking a few personal days, so be it. He should have considered that possibility before he decided to interfere in my private life and procure me a wife."

Nadir was pale as a sheet as he listened to my impious tirade, but when I'd finished, he simply turned away and walked swiftly toward the exit. "You are playing a very dangerous game here, Erik," he shouted nervously over his shoulder.

"And you underestimate me far too often, Daroga," I called in reply.

I shut the door behind him, then looked back to see Serena standing with her arms crossed. "How much of a risk are you taking, staying home with me?" she interrogated.

"For anyone else, a gamble that could decide life from death. But for me, hardly any at all," I answered austerely.

"Nadir did not seem so convinced," she persisted doubtfully.

"That's because Nadir, while a very intelligent man, is a hopeless worrywart when it comes to affairs of his employer," I sniffed, "The Shah truly has no jurisdiction over how I run things at my construction site."

"Apart from your meeting his deadlines and not falling behind!" Serena alleged, raising an elegant eyebrow, "And that will most certainly be difficult to fulfill when you are wasting time keeping me company."

"Any time spent in your company is _far _from wasted time." It flowed out of me so simply, so naturally. And yet as soon as it hung in the air I could feel myself coloring in embarrassment. Mon dieu, she was probably appalled at such bold words…

But oh, no! For she smiled at me then… I would even go so far as to call it a beam! It was the most fully and radiantly she had smiled since her arrival here, and it left me unreservedly breathless as I made mental notes of each impeccable detail.

"That is very kind of you," she said softly, wandering to my side and winding her fingers around my arm, "I hope you truly mean it, when considering all your other responsibilities…"

"One thing you will learn about me, my dear," I began, reaching up to pat her hands with one of mine, "is that when I have a very strong opinion about something, I am not about to hide it for the sake of anything or anyone else. And I can tell you in all honesty that I much prefer your company to that of the skittish workforce of the Shah's palace."

She laughed—that glorious, ringing little laugh!—and stated, "Will learn? Erik, I'd say that was the _first _thing I learned here!"

I chuckled along with her, unable to stop smiling as I looked down at this lovely, cheerful angel as she spoke to me as if I were like any other man. _So this is what the simple joys of life are like…_

**A/N:**** Whoo! Another long one! And jam-packed full of tension and resolution… any thoughts? What did you think of the Khanum? Of Serena and her naivety (or perhaps lack thereof…) towards how much she was teasing Erik with her "plan"? And what about Nadir and Erik's bickering, and yet their undeniable bromance?**

**I'd also like to welcome the new readers my "Following" feed tells me I've acquired… don't be shy, my new friends! Drop a review and say hello; I'd love so much to hear from you! **

**For my Guests who I cannot reply to with PM's: ahhhh hello! Thank you so much for your kind words! And to Guest09, who has problems with people calling you short, I completely understand; that can get so frustrating! But work it, girl… being petite is a blessing and I'm sure you rock it! Serena herself is petite, especially in comparison to Erik! **

**Hope you enjoyed this latest installment… if you did (or if you didn't… I'd love to hear from you either way so perhaps I can improve!), please let me know! **

**Song of the week: "Slow it Down" by the Lumineers. Listen to the lyrics, people… and compare it with Erik's thoughts in this chapter. My music-shuffle strikes again with its inspiration! **

**Question of the week: What do you hope to see next when it comes to Erik and Serena? I'm curious. ;)**

**~DonJuana**


	12. Chapter 12

Nadir walked slowly back to his quarters, his head reeling so uncontrollably that he felt if he moved any swifter he might keel over.

He knew Erik would endeavor to treat Serena with the utmost prudence and decorum, of that he was now absolutely certain. Yes… there was no doubt in his mind that Erik would promptly become his own worst enemy if he ever harmed the girl, be it accidentally or in a purposeful moment of lust or frustration. But oh, Allah forgive him… to _try_ and to _succeed_ in such a feat were two very different things when one had a temper so vast as Erik's! He could not help but continue to be intensely worried for her.

And yet, at the same time, he now knew by virtue of her intuition, bold exploits, and words, Serena was more than capable of taking care of herself!

Nadir could still hardly bring himself to believe it; she had been faced with a fatal situation, yet met it with calm severity and control. She had also been willing to put her own physical welfare aside to save both herself and the strange, masked companion she had been forcibly paired with. Surrendered her feminine honor and self-reliance by allowing a near stranger to kiss her neck—placing her virtue in his complete trust—outside of marriage! And all so that her captors might get the show they craved… the façade of undivided manipulation and control that kept them under a blanket of false security and satisfaction.

It was both the most preposterous and awe-inspiringly cerebral coup he had ever witnessed, and he suddenly found himself thanking his God that Miss Serena had been gifted to Erik, and not him. He was simply not… _equipped_ to handle such spirit and unconventionality, this woman's vigor and strength! His malformed cohort, on the other hand…

They were certainly a match to be reckoned with indeed.

He entered back into his home, only to be met as soon as he had stepped inside with the frantic, flying force of his frantic, fretful servant.

"S-Sir! Please tell me she's alright… that the Angel of Doom has not truly harmed her as he claimed he did to the Khanum!" Darius gasped, grabbing onto Nadir's arm with a fervency that surprised his employer immensely.

Nadir gently shook him off, sighing and saying, "Darius, she's fine. Calm down, my boy. Erik was simply saying what he knew the queen would want to hear. He does not intend to exploit the girl."

"And what of the bruising on her skin, Master Khan?" his tone dropped to just over a whisper, "it looked like the work of some wild animal!"

"Darius, hold your tongue!" I snapped, raising an eyebrow at him. I knew that he had always feared Erik, as did most that the Shah would label as "expendable" or "unimportant". But in these past few months, I had begun that Darius was gradually getting more comfortable with spending time in his presence—or, as comfortable as one could be while waiting upon a man who had earned his sinister reputation as an inescapable assassin. But apparently it took little more than the fraudulent debasement of a beautiful young woman to elicit those unfavorable opinions back into the light. "I understand her condition was rather… shocking. But I assure you, nothing was done without her full consent."

His eyes widened even further, taking on the look of two massive, restless seas. "She… she agreed to such barbaric advances?"

He sighed, shooting Darius another disapproving glance. "Respect your superiors, Darius. But… 'agreed' is in fact an understatement. She took the initiative; orchestrated the entire scheme."

Nadir did not think even Erik could have caused a look of such horror to appear on his timid servant's face as this news had. "Allah above!" he sputtered, "What… what sort of woman _is _she, to endorse such… promiscuity?"

"An extraordinarily intelligent once, actually," Nadir replied simply, shaking his head in disbelief, "She single-handedly escaped an immediate execution without knowing our language or customs in the slightest."

"But she utilized such an iniquitous route of escape, Sir!" he answered, apparently sickened, yet at the same time, more impressed and enthralled than he dared admit.

"That is what makes her so smart. It was the only way she would escape with her life, and she sensed that somehow. She did not let her pride get in the way of her survival: a sign of true awareness."

"I… I suppose that's true," Darius said after a pause, "Would the Khanum truly have killed her?"

"It would have been either her head… or her virginity, after being thrown into the harem for the Shah's enjoyment," Nadir continued with a grimace.

"So it _was _necessary for her… continued existence," Darius reiterated, as if trying to convince himself, as well as slow his racing heart.

Nadir couldn't help but chuckle; the poor man looked frightened as a schoolboy. "Yes, Darius. Quite necessary."

"Great and Merciful Allah… what an impressive thing she is, then," he exhaled, now dually awed.

"I can say in full truth that I have never met a girl quite like her," Nadir agreed with a smirk, "I am not even certain that Erik will be able to fully comprehend—let alone handle—her… but he seems quite pleased with her for the time being."

Darius bit his lip in concern. "So he _is _going to…"

"Marry her, yes. Bed her… no."

"How do you know that, Sir?" Darius exclaimed, "How will _she_? She is blind, for our God's sake! Entirely defenseless against him should he wish to take her for his own!"

"Ah… that, my friend, is where you are wrong. In fact, I believe young Serena is more equipped than most to deal with Erik and his terrible fury," Nadir corrected him, "For not only does her physical condition entail that she will never fear his face, but she has both the fire to defy him and the coolness by which to pacify him when he gets worked up."

"But what of the times she is unable to soothe him?" Darius whispered, "You cannot deny, Master Khan, that he completely loses his head in his anger, destroying all in his path be they innocent souls or not—"

"I sent you away from the throne room when he started to go over the edge of self-possession, Darius…" Nadir's tone dropped in volume instantaneously, as if revering the memory of the astounding occurrence, "I have never before seen any living thing—apart from his music, of course, which you know as well as I is a being unto itself— calm Erik so quickly as she did when she felt the tensions rising."

Darius was fascinated; the schoolboy in him leaned forward in amazement as Nadir spun the implausible tale of the Angel of Doom's emotional conciliation. "You're certain it was not simply a stroke of luck?"

"More than certain. Think of when he was glaring at you for gawking at her… didn't you notice her monitoring the situation, stepping in when things began to go amiss?"

Darius simply colored in response. "I was not gawking, Master Khan…"

"Oh please. Sataspes could not have looked more astonished in finding the Benguela Current," Nadir snorted amusedly as the boy visibly sunk further down into his seat.

"I did not mean for my glance to be anything but the most innocent of looks," he mumbled apologetically, "I simply… she just…"

"Relax, my friend. You cannot be blamed. She is of the alien lands of the East, and beautiful beyond compare," Nadir laughed, "it is understandable that you, as a man of the earth, should have the irrepressible desire to stare."

Darius and his red face were quiet for a moment, but after a minute or so, he piped up skittishly, "Does the Angel of— I mean, Master Erik feel the same, Sir? How long do you think it will take for him to abandon his new promise in favor of being, as you said, a 'man of the earth'?"

Nadir appeared to have no candid reply to offer, and Darius grew increasingly scared for the poor girl and her famously obsessive master. But at last, his expectant expression was met with, "Erik is a good man at heart, Darius. I know that is very hard for you to believe, but I have seen instances of that goodness many a time. He is not an innocent soul, but no one knows that better than he himself. And even if he cannot always contain his temper or discern fame and power from moral correctness, he has never wanted any _truly _innocent souls to suffer, as he in his life has suffered. He has always been angry with the world; considered himself separate from the race which has so thoroughly denied him any happiness… but I believe, and have always believed, that he could learn to forgive it if only handed the right opportunity." He hesitated, his next revelation only just having truly hit him. "Perhaps… perhaps Serena could be that chance for him."

"Suffered, Sir? Forgive me, but how has he suffered?" Darius inquired, unable to suppress his curiosity about the mysterious past of the masked man.

Nadir shook his head. "That, Darius, is not my story to disclose. All you need to know is this: how kind do you think we fickle humans are to a man with a face such as his?"

Darius sighed and nodded, understanding perfectly what his master was implying. "I see. Well that is unfortunate indeed… he is a great genius."

"Most unfortunate, yes."

The servant looked up then, query still afflicting his wide, dark eyes. "And you think that she could help him, sir? Change him, or at least some of his practices?"

Nadir merely smirked, thinking of the way his deformed friend had looked at Serena after knocking over furniture in the pure frustration of her. "I think, Darius, that she already has."

**A/N:**** Surpriiiiiiise! An early chapter! :) And why, you may ask? Well, I received an unexpected little burst of thoughtful reviews a few days ago, especially some lovely guest comments! So to thank you all for your amazing support… a WEDNESDAY update! I know it's short, but it's Darius and Nadir… enough said. ;) So what did you think? Am I developing their characters well enough? Anyways, do you think I could have some nice midweek reviews to read? Frequent responses and reader suggestions inspire me to write more… which leads to earlier chapter releases such as this one! It's a beautiful cycle, folks… so type away! **

**Much love, DonJuana**

**P.S: Song of the MIDweek: "New Soul" by Yael Naim. It's more Serena than Nadir or Darius… but if you know a song that reminds you of our Persian friends, send it to me, I'd love to hear it!**


	13. Chapter 13

_The Shah stepped out of his canopied transport, more huffy and irritable than usual after his long day of travelling. The previous night had not exactly put him in a pleasant mood, either; he'd had no idea that the unsullied girl his guards had brought back for Erik would be so beautiful… so rare. She would be the gem of the court whether she was blind or not—and she was not his, but instead, the magician's! It was unheard of… appalling! Yet he dared not take her back… that had the potential to ruin both his honest reputation and his good health at the hands of his assassin. _

_So he had kept quiet, gone about his day and preformed his duties, visiting some princes outside of the city and extending his cordial invitation for them to visit him in Tehran in the near future. But he had found himself unable to completely forget the European girl and her darting, susceptible eyes… _

_He entered back into the palace with a puffed up stride made to hide his internal exasperation. But he didn't get very far before something blocked his path…_

_ "Will someone get this damned cat away from me?" he huffed irritably, looking down at the sleek Siamese rubbing against his legs, "I have no wish to concern myself with it right now!" _

_ "Just pick it up and carry it over to me, my son." _

_The Shah turned to see his mother standing in the doorway of the hall, gesturing him over. Disgruntled, he did as she instructed, walking over to her and handing her the sacred creature. "Mother… I hope you have had a pleasing day in my absence." _

_The Khanum stroked the now purring cat inattentively, shrugging her shoulders. "For the most part, I did… but I have some things I urgently need to discuss with you." _

_The Shah's eyebrows arched curiously. "Oh? What did I miss that proves itself so urgent in your eyes?" _

_The Khanum merely rolled her eyes. "Walk with me; I will explain." _

_She let the cat down, and instead of returning to either she or the Shah, it sprinted off in the opposite direction… towards Erik's secluded wing. The Shah snorted; of course it would dash off that way. His dozens of cats had always been abnormally drawn to his masked architect, much to Erik's dismay. _

_Taking no notice of the flight of the animal, the Khanum began to lead him down the hall, waving back at the guards so as to warn them that this was private conversation. "As you know, my child… this morning, you put me in charge of ensuring that Erik thoroughly enjoyed our gift to him."_

_ "Yes… what did you find out? Did he even report to you this morning?" the Shah asked, wishing that he could hide the eagerness in his voice better than he had just then. _

_His mother looked at him disapprovingly, but then said, "He reported alright. And I requested that he bring her along too so that I might see for myself whether or not he truly used her." _

_The Shah raised an eyebrow. "And?" _

_ "And she was an entire spectrum of bruises and welts," the Khanum smirked, "I could hardly even tell she was a little white girl anymore." _

_ "Excellent! At long last we have found the right gift to please our fastidiously selective friend." _

_ "But how pleased is too pleased, son?" _

_The Shah looked at her, confusion adding to his mix of conflicting emotions of contentment and disappointment. "What do you mean by that?" _

_ "The way he acted this morning, my love… I've never seen him so defensive before. Angry, yes, but never like this. He openly defied me at levels even he in his most rebellious, untamable nature had never before attained. And when I lightly insulted her, he looked as if he wanted to kill me," she explained with a scowl, "and probably would have tried, if she hadn't stepped in and soothed him with a simple touch." _

_ "She touched him, and his ire was dissipated?" the Shah asked, fascinated. _

_ "Yes! Stepped forward and placed her tiny, delicate hand on his arm, and it was as if they had been transported to their own world," the Khanum spat, "The level of intimacy which dwelled in their exchange worries me. And who in the sacred creation of Almighty Allah has ever been able to appease Erik at all, let alone with but a touch!" _

_ "That is very true, Mother… that is quite peculiar," the Shah muttered, deep in thought. _

_The Khanum watched him carefully, seeing that he had taken the bait she had set out for him with her accusatory words. She had to bite back a smirk of satisfaction, and swiftly continued in order to set his suspicion in stone, "He's obviously already infatuated with her… and what if he becomes so captivated by her that he's distracted from his work on your palace?" _

_The Shah perked up immediately at that possibility, his face darkening. "Perhaps you are right…" he admitted tersely, "and that most certainly cannot happen." _

_ "And yet we cannot just whisk her away now that he has her," the Khanum hissed. _

_The Shah thought back to his earlier thoughts and sighed. "And that I know is true. But, knowing you, Mother, I assume you already have a plan." _

_ "I am insulted."_

_ "But I am not wrong, am I?" the Shah suggested, crossing his arms. _

_The Khanum chuckled, shaking her head. She should have known that she would not be able to fool her son for long; he had far too often acted as her ally in a range of schemes over the years to miss the signs that indicated she was up to something. "While I disapprove of your making that assumption, child, I admit that you are not wrong." _

_ "Then what do you suggest our course of action be?" the Shah questioned, hoping that she would suggest something that would result in the girl ending up in his harem. _

_The queen smiled wolfishly, stopping in the middle of the hall in her eagerness to divulge her plan to him. "I suggest that we make Erik wish to give her up. Because he is far too clever to think it a coincidence if she just disappears in the middle of the night."_

_ "But if he is as infatuated as you claim, how will we manage that?" the Shah inquired, though his curiosity was growing more and more with each word. _

_ "Simple. Publicity," his mother smirked, "You've seen Erik's solitary ways; the man's practically an introvert because of that mask of his. He hardly even lets us know what he's doing, and we're his employers! So what do you think would happen, precious lamb…" her grin widened as she attempted to make her next statement sound like an innocent question, "if we forced him to go about his engagement to little miss Serena publicly?" _

_The Shah's eyes widened, and he couldn't help but mirror his mother's nauseating smile. "You mean—" but his mother cut him off, impassioned with her idea of revenge. _

_ "Oh yes! I've heard many stories of what European engagements entail… and I'm sure the people of our city and palace would find their customs just as amusing as I do, should we give them daily doses of it!" _

_ "You have quite caught my attention, mother. Do go on." _

_ "Just imagine it, my king… Erik—the Angel of Doom—walking the streets in the broad daylight with such a pretty little slip of a thing! That alone will cause enough of a stir… then, it will be announced that they are engaged to be married! Erik will get her a ring… but will have to present it to her in front of the entire palace; they will go on public outings in crowded places as people whisper about the courtship… and then, as icing on the cake, anyone who wishes to will be invited to the wedding. And a traditional, Catholic wedding it will be, too!" she cackled, "We will put them on display for all of Persia to witness, and I'd be surprised if Erik lasted a single week in the spotlight!" _

_The Shah found his mother's scheming energy to be entirely contagious, and was just about to burst out with his assent when a sudden, worrisome thought struck him. "Firstly, he certainly will not give her up willingly, after how much he objected to the execution of the last girl we presented him with. But, more importantly, if this were to work, what if he should become so displeased that he refuses to continue constructing ? He must finish that palace, Mother…" he breathed greedily, "it is an absolute masterpiece; I will have the envy of the world, possessing it." _

_The Khanum was unruffled. "We will of course be discreet about it," she told him assuredly, "we could not possibly expect to get away with a legal decree coercing him into this. And if, once he decides he doesn't want her anymore, he is reluctant to give her up because of certain events of the past… we will tell him that she will be allowed to go free, or something of the sort. All the while she is simply never allowed to leave your harem. But come now, my dear… you are worrying over all these things as if he has any true power that you do not bestow upon him," she purred, patting her son's cheek, "He may be one of your most valuable servants, but he is but only a servant." _

_Her praises did what she intended them to; the Shah puffed up proudly. "You're absolutely right. He will work if I wish him to. No matter what I say he must do in his free time." _

_The Khanum smiled as her plot fell into place. There was no way that Erik would stand for this, and no doubt would attempt to rid himself of that little, redheaded root of the problem as soon as he discovered it. And she personally did not care if her son took her for his harem, though she would prefer her tortured and killed. She knew that if her son did claim her as a prize for his harem, he would make her meek little life absolutely miserable; he did to all the girls, and they despised him for it. Besides, she would find a way to kill her eventually without her son's knowledge of her involvement. It wouldn't be the first time she deceived the bumbling idiot. She would only have to be concerned if the girl found herself pregnant by her son… that would make her untouchable, at least until the child was born. But no; she would not allow things to escalate in such a way, should her plan succeed. "That's right…" she cooed to her fulsome son, "he will be powerless against us. We will pluck his beautiful, gifted flower right out from under him…_ and yet it will be by his hand that she is returned to us!"

**A/N:**** The week's second chapter! WHOO! And it's all thanks to you guys and your awesome communication… you all are the best readers an author could ask for! I even got some new followers, which nearly brings me to fifty… exciting stuff, people! **

**Serena and Erik will be back next week, I promise! But for now, a decisive beginning to an imperatively important evil-scheme of the Khanum's. What didja think?**

**R&R to answer any of these questions… or go all Socrates on me and ask ME some questions! I will respond to all review I can, meaning all reviews that aren't guest reviews (but that doesn't mean I love my guests any less… you guys ROCK and make me so happy with your frequent reviews!)**

**Song of the week: "I Don't Think About You Anymore But, I Don't Think About You Anyless" by the Hungry Ghosts. Because when I hear it, I can just FEEL someone conniving in the background while this mysterious music plays. **

**Question of the week: Anyone have any predictions for how this wily plan of the Khanum's will affect Erik? How he'll react if he finds out? **

**~DonJuana**


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